


A Very Merry Werewolf Christmas

by Welfycat



Series: Live with the Wolves and You Learn to Howl [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas, Families of Choice, Gen, Pack Feels, Sheriff Stilinski POV, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 06:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welfycat/pseuds/Welfycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the holiday season rapidly approaching, and a werewolf pack taking up residence in their home, it might be time for the Stilinski family to celebrate Christmas for the first time in seven years.</p><p>This fic will be live-posted through the New Year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thanksgiving

**Author's Note:**

> Content Notes: Discussion of (canon) dead family members and grieving. Canon typical violence.
> 
> Author Notes: This is second in the 'Live with the Wolves and You Learn how to Howl' series, and chronologically takes place between chapters two and three of 'Beyond the Call of Duty and Family', though I suggest simply reading that entire story first.
> 
> This fic will be live-posted through the holiday season, each chapter takes place on the day it is posted. Chapter Two will be posted December 1st.

Sheriff Stilinski took one last look around the kitchen where there was nearly no sign of the mess and chaos that had taken place earlier in the day. He nodded to himself and then walked down the hall into the living room. The room was also mostly tidy, a small pile of cushions on the floor next to the couch the only things out of place, and he bent to toss them back where they belonged before he made his way to his armchair and sunk into it. He tipped his head back and listened, the near silence in the house both eerie and a godsend after the long day.

Pack meals were always noisy and chaotic, that was only to be expected when there was nearly a dozen people gathered around a single table. Pack meals on a holiday were something else entirely. Idly he wondered if he could convince Melissa McCall to host Thanksgiving at her house next year, where there was more space in the dining room. Melissa had left shortly after dinner, she was working the Thanksgiving evening and night shift, and had joked that the hospital would be getting their customary flood of patients who hadn't quite gotten the hang of cooking a turkey.

With his feet up on the footrest he turned on the tv and flipped through channels until he found a football game that was just past halftime. He muted the game, content to watch - and maybe nap - in silence since his ears still hadn't quite recovered from the meal. While he watched he let his mind wander, half-marveling at the largest holiday meal he'd had in seven years, ever since he and Stiles had stopped seeing their extended family over the holidays. The majority of the pack had been in attendance for the full meal. Lydia, Derek, and Boyd had all but taken over the kitchen with preparations and had assigned tasks as necessary. The Sheriff and Melissa had been relegated to the living room, both slightly bemused but more than willing to let the teens, and Derek, take over the tasks they were accustomed to doing.

Most of the boys had played a pick-up game of lacrosse in the backyard, Jackson racing through the house to join them as soon as he arrived from his family's house with Danny following not far behind. Erica had left early to join her dad for an evening meal, and Allison had only been able to drop by for about an hour before she'd been summoned back home by her father. Overall it had felt busy and noisy, particularly since he'd grown used to having Thanksgiving either with the McCalls or down at the Sheriff's Department with Stiles accompanying him. More than once he'd caught a glimpse of Stiles right in the thick of things, grinning and looking thrilled to be surrounded by his friends and family.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs caught his attention and he looked over just in time to see Stiles shuffle into the living room and flop down on the couch. He had his hand over his stomach like he was regretting his third slice of pie, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he groaned. "I can't believe Derek took them running less than an hour after dessert. He's going to have sick werewolves on his hands and I am so not dealing with that," Stiles said, dragging his feet up on the couch with the rest of his body.

He smiled because he'd seen firsthand exactly how much food the werewolves could put away without any indication that they were remotely full, which he had assumed was at least part of the reason why Derek had corralled his pack into doing the pre-Thanksgiving grocery shopping. "I think they'll be alright," he said - he'd watched Erica and Jackson roughhousing less than ten minutes after they'd finished gorging on pie and ice cream. At least on Thanksgiving he didn't have to be concerned that they would be getting shot at while racing through the woods; regular hunters wouldn't be out and he was hoping specifically that the werewolf Hunters were taking the evening off.

Stiles' phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out and frowned down at the screen before typing a return message. "Danny says he dropped off Lydia at her house and he's now at home too. The plan is for Jackson to spend the night with him since Jackson's parents are out, Isaac and Scott are coming back here when they're doing running, and everyone else is going home to their parents," he said, dropping his cellphone on the coffee table before sprawling flat on the couch again. "Derek's probably going to go lurk around in the woods since we didn't give him the opportunity earlier in the day," he added with a sigh.

"Derek does that frequently?" he asked. He could easily imagine Derek roaming restless in the woods all night - Derek frequently looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Not so much anymore, but around the holidays he gets worse," Stiles said. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, nesting himself in the corner of the couch so he was supported by both the armrest and the back. "I think it's hard for him sometimes, having a new pack. It was probably easier when he could just spend the holidays lurking away without having to worry about being responsible for his betas."

He nodded, immediately getting what Stiles was trying to say. Derek had gone from a member of a pack and a family, to having no one except his sister, and then to being responsible for a pack of teenagers. It had been a difficult enough transition for him and Stiles, going from a full extended family to just the two of them, and his relief at seeing Stiles finally building close connections outside of the McCalls was unparalleled.

"Speaking of the holidays," Stiles said, his words more uncertain now. "I wanted to ask you something."

Since Stiles usually just asked without the preamble he now had his dad's full attention. "Ask away," he said, trying to brace himself for whatever Stiles had come up with this time.

"Well, I was asking around the rest of the pack, trying to get an idea of what everyone's Christmas plans looked like so we could coordinate a little, and, well, I kind of got the impression that Christmas hasn't been that great for anyone these past few years," Stiles said, his eyes focused on where he was picking at the worn edges of his sweatpants.

"Okay," he said, thinking back to their own lackluster holidays over the past few years. It had been by some silent agreement that they hadn't celebrated Christmas much; they exchanged a few presents, had a sit down meal together, and then Stiles usually disappeared to find Scott. The Sheriff usually took the evening shift on Christmas, trying to give as many of his deputies as possible a chance to be with their families.

"Like, I asked Isaac what he wanted to do, and he just looked at me like I was crazy and said he was too old for Christmas," Stiles said, grimacing slightly. "And Jackson's parents are going out of town, and Lydia's parents are already fighting about who she should stay with over the break and she doesn't want to stay with either of them. Erica says she doesn't know that either of her parents will be in town, not that they do much anyway, and Boyd said Christmas with his family is pretty low key. Not to mention Derek. Last year he disappeared for the whole week and came back looking like he'd spent the entire time running in the woods." Stiles stopped to take a breath. "So, I was thinking maybe we could do a real Christmas this year, for everyone, with a tree and decorations and everything. If it was okay with you."

He took in the way Stiles was tapping his fingers restlessly against his ankle and the worried twist of Stiles' lips, and was filled with a rush of gratitude for his son, and a whisper of regret that Stiles was even worried about asking. "I think that's a good idea," he said, nodding his approval. He thought he was ready to have a full-fledged Christmas in the house again, his wife had always brought everything out on December 1st in a whirlwind of scents and color, but more importantly it sounded like Stiles was ready.

Stiles nodded and climbed up from the couch. A few seconds later his arms were around his dad's shoulders and they hugged for a brief moment before Stiles pulled away. "Now I just have to get Derek on board, which really just means letting Lydia start planning because then Derek will have no choice," Stiles said with an impish smile.

"Good to know you have everything under control," he said, watching Stiles bound from the room before settling back in his chair as he halfheartedly returned his attention to the football game. He fell asleep with a running list in his mind of things that he would need to do to prepare for an actual Christmas celebration, and when he woke a few hours later the tv was off and a blanket had been draped over his lap.

He stood and stretched, his back protesting, and he wandered toward the sliver of light coming from down the hall. Pausing in the doorway he took in the scene in front of him. It wasn't quite midnight, the only light in the room the little one above the stove, and Stiles, Scott, and Isaac were at the counter gathered around what little had been left over of the pies and were eating directly from the tins.

"Hey," Stiles said around a mouthful of pumpkin pie. Isaac and Scott had turned with wide eyes, Isaac furtively brushing pie crumbs from around his mouth and Scott hiding his fork behind his back.

"I hope you're at least having some milk with that," he said, retrieving the carton of milk from the fridge, four cups from the cupboard, and then a fork from the drawer. "Pass the cherry."

Scott wordlessly passed the last slice of cherry pie in his direction as Stiles poured cups of milk for everyone.

Their conversation consisted mostly of distracted mumbling about pie and after he finished his slice and glass of milk he told them to clean up when they were done and ambled away upstairs. He fell asleep listening for the sound of their footfalls in the hallway and didn't wake until morning when he heard voices talking loudly about what they wanted to do for breakfast.


	2. Christmas Lights and The Mistletoe Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three will be posted on December 4th.

The sight that greeted him when he arrived home the afternoon of December 1st, slowly pulling his patrol car into the driveway, gave him pause and he stared through the windshield as he parked and then sat for a moment to consider the activities. When he got out of the car his first instinct was to check that none of the neighbors were paying undo attention, because if most of Beacon Hills hadn't been clued in about werewolves before, this was probably a pretty good hint. No one seemed to be watching, undoubtably they all had things to do on the first Saturday in December, and he walked over to where most of the pack was gathered around Lydia and Danny on the front steps. Derek was standing in the middle of the grass in front of the house, his head tipped up as he watched Scott and Boyd pinning lights along the front edge above the garage.

Danny was typing furiously on his laptop while Lydia was half watching over his shoulder and half examining the coils of stringed lights that were set out in neat rows. "Red along the south window edges," she directed, picking up a coil and handing it to Erica.

Erica took the lights and bounded over to Derek, and for the first time the Sheriff realized that there were no ladders in sight. He discovered why a few seconds later when Derek cupped his hands together and boosted Erica in a single motion up onto the roof. Derek waited until she had gained her balance and moved to the windows before he stepped back and continued to observe with an expression that was somewhere between bored and grim.

"Is this a good idea?" he asked, half to Derek and half to anyone who was listening, and watched as Erica unrolled her string of lights and started to clip them to the window ledges.

"It's going to move in patterns," Danny said, not looking up from his laptop as he worked. "We were going to set it to music but no one could agree on a song."

"And we thought that music might have been a bit much," Allison added from where she was sorting lights with Jackson.

Stiles looked up from the paper he was examining with Lydia. "It would have been epic if we'd done the Trans-Siberian Orchestra like I suggested."

"Uh huh," he said, deciding to thank whoever had vetoed the music when he figured out who it was.

Lydia got up and moved to look at the house and then at the paper in her hands. "Okay, we need blue strings across the upper ledge, but they need to loop. Boyd, can you boost Isaac and Scott to the upper level?"

"Yep," Boyd called, placing the last clip on the lights he and Scott were currently working on.

Jackson brought over four coils of blue lights and looped them around Isaac's arms. Isaac didn't wait for Derek to lift him onto the lower part of the roof, instead he jumped and swung his legs up in a movement that wouldn't have been out of place for a gymnast.

The Sheriff took another step back and shielded his eyes so he could better see Boyd lift Isaac and Scott up onto the steeper roof that covered the second story of the house. "Be careful up there," he called when Scott wobbled on the very edge before Isaac grabbed Scott's arm and pulled him down flat against the slope.

"Don't worry!" Scott shouted back, waving down to them. "It's not like I haven't fallen off the roof before."

Stiles, who had joined his dad to watch his friends up on the roof, grinned broadly. "And he wasn't even a werewolf for at least one of those times."

"Why don't I feel reassured?" the Sheriff asked, though he thought it was at least partially because he'd once driven Scott to the emergency room after Scott had fallen out of one of the trees in the backyard.

Derek gave a low grunt and then vaulted up onto the lower level of the roof. He helped Scott and Isaac to loop the lights from below, the twitch of his eyebrows when he looked back down at the yard seeming to ask 'Happy now?'.

"I need more red for the windows," Erica called, coming to the edge of the roof and leaning down so that Jackson could toss her another coil.

"Alright," the Sheriff said after he watched them for a few more minutes, mostly satisfied that none of them were going to fall off the roof anytime soon. "You guys seem to have this under control so I'm going to go inside. Holler if you need anything."

He stepped around the teens gathered on the front steps, opening the door and blinking at the sparkly garland that had been wrapped up and down the staircase banister. He turned back and raised his eyebrows at Stiles.

"We already did most of the inside," Stiles called and shrugged. "I couldn't find the wreath though. Do you know where it is?"

After combing through his mind for a second he nodded slowly. "I think it's out in the shed. I'll take a look in a little bit."

"Oh," Lydia said, having returned to her spot next to Danny. "We left a box of decorations next to your office door."

Allison finished with her last roll of lights and climbed the steps. "Also, beware of the mistletoe. It's currently in the living room," she said and grinned brightly.

"Noted," he said, raising his eyebrows because the mistletoe certainly hadn't been among the decorations Stiles must have dug out from the basement.

The girls both just giggled and returned to their tasks and he shook his head fondly and went inside. A quick peek in the living room confirmed that there was indeed a sprig of mistletoe hanging near the window. The rest of the house was in varying states of decoration, though the boxes full of ornaments for the Christmas tree had been stacked in the corner of the hallway. He went into the kitchen, looking for something to tide him over until dinner, and discovered that someone had unearthed the crock pot and a stew of some kind was slowly simmering. After a minute of breathing in the aroma, his stomach growling with about as much ferocity as a werewolf, he went to the fridge and found that someone had been shopping lately and had already bought eggnog. He poured himself a cup, knowing that the carton wouldn't last long, and sat down at the kitchen table with the newspaper.

He made it all the way through the cup of eggnog and most of the newspaper when he heard a loud thump outside followed by a low moan. With a sigh he folded the newspaper, put his cup in the sink, and went out the backdoor and around the side of the house. "Everyone alright?" he called, doing a quick head count.

Stiles was kneeling over Scott and holding his hand above Scott's face as everyone else hurried over. "How many fingers, buddy?" Stiles asked, looking more amused than concerned.

Scott squinted up at Stiles. "Two. Although the real question is can I feel my legs," he said.

Allison peered over Stiles' shoulder. "Can you feel your legs?"

"Mostly?" Scott asked.

Two more thumps heralded Derek and Boyd dropping down from the roof, both landing neatly crouched on the grass before they came over and helped Scott up to his feet. "You're fine," Derek said, roughly dusting the dirt and dead grass from Scott's shirt.

Scott cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. "Easy for you to say, you didn't just fall off the roof."

"Then don't fall off the roof," Derek suggested, though he was watching closely as Scott took a few steps.

"He's fine," Lydia announced with a roll of her eyes. "Were you nearly finished up there?"

"We just reached the end of roof. Isaac was putting the last clips on," Scott said.

Everyone turned and looked up at the roof, Isaac and Erica peering down from over the edge.

"Come on down from there, you two," the Sheriff called, nervous despite the fact that he'd just seen Scott bounce back up almost like he hadn't just fallen nearly two dozen feet to the ground. He blinked when seconds later Erica leapt gracefully from the roof, her hair streaming out around her, and she rolled neatly and popped back to her feet as she hit the ground. She laughed brightly when Boyd reached over to pluck a leaf from where it had stuck in her hair.

Isaac tossed the cord down from the upper set up lights and dropped down onto the next level of the roof, plugging it into the extension cord before he jumped down to the ground, landing between Erica and Stiles with a flushed grin.

"That was the last of the upper level. Jackson, did you finish putting up the strands circling the garage?" Lydia asked, rolling up her diagram as she went to survey the front of the house. The rest of the pack followed and the Sheriff took one last look at the indent in the grass where Scott had landed before he trailed along while shaking his head.

"We're ready here," Danny said, jogging into the garage to what appeared to be a switch board and looking back expectantly at everyone.

"Okay, wow us with your mad skills," Stiles called and everyone waited with an air of barely contained anticipation.

The Sheriff glanced around the street. It was early enough in the evening that the sun hadn't quite set but it was growing darker outside, and only two of their neighbors had their Christmas lights out yet. He suspected that his house was either going to be much more spectacular than it had in years past or it was going to start a fire. Either way he already had the fire department programmed on speed dial in cellphone, and not just because he was the Sheriff of Beacon Hills.

Danny typed a few more things on his laptop, hit a button on the switch box, and the lights decorating the house sprung to life. He hurried out to join them, and then grinned and gave a little jump when he saw that it was working. The Sheriff didn't think he'd ever seen Danny so visibly excited before - Danny was one of the more reserved members of the pack.

The Sheriff looked at the sequences of lights dancing across his house and he had to admit that it was well done, even if the neighbors would probably hate them by the end of December. "Very nice. Is the white circle...?" he trailed off, uncertain if he should voice what he was thinking.

"A full moon in a night sky? Why, yes it is," Stiles said proudly, rubbing the back of his head when he was immediately cuffed by Derek. "What? It's thematically appropriate."

"I think the stew is ready by now," Boyd said, neatly intervening before anyone else had the opportunity.

The suggestion of food was eagerly accepted by the teens and the Sheriff found himself one of the last remaining outside with Danny and Lydia looking up to admire their handiwork. "I think we need to adjust the lines on the north edge of the roof," Lydia said, frowning critically.

"Do you think the sequence on the windows needs to speed up?" Danny asked.

"No, but maybe we should increase the loop around the moon so it's more frequent," Lydia suggested.

"I think it looks fine and I don't think anyone is getting back on the roof until it's time for the lights to come down," the Sheriff said, not leaving any room for argument. "Now, somebody mentioned something about stew."

They made their way into the house, the excitable chatter at the dinner table almost entirely focused on rehashing their light hanging and house decorating adventure. It was a nice change from discussions that focused on bodies in the woods or pack politics. He was just turning to leave the kitchen after the meal, heading toward his office, when Erica called out: "Wait!" He turned and raised his eyebrows at Erica, hoping that his house wasn't actually booby trapped or something similar.

"Mistletoe is now out that way, I'd go through the living room if I was you. Scott and Allison went that way a minute or two ago," she said with a knowledgable nod.

"Wasn't the mistletoe in the living room?" he asked, because he was certain he had seen in there only a few hours earlier.

Erica grinned mischievously. "What's the fun if it stays in one place!"

He shook his head at her, but he was smiling when he left through the living room and went to his office, nearly tripping over the box of decorations that had been left for him there.


	3. Secret Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 will be posted on December 7th.

It probably said something about the recent developments in Sheriff Stilinski's life that he was infinitely happier when he parked in the driveway at seven in the evening after a very long day at work and saw the familiar groupings of cars on the street in front of the house than he was coming home to an empty, quiet house. At the very least it meant he probably wasn't going to be checking his phone into the night as he waited for updates on whatever monster they were chasing around in the woods. He hung his jacket in the closet and kicked off his shoes, listening to the sound of voices chattering over each other in the living room, and smiled when he poked his head in and found most of the pack sitting in a circle on the floor occupied with a game of cards that somehow involved what looked like all the spoons in the house. Stiles was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Derek, though he double-checked the corners to make sure he hadn't just missed Derek.

The teens all said hello, pausing briefly in their game to wave before they went back to cheerfully bickering over the rules of whatever it was they were playing, and he left them to their fun. The kitchen was quiet and mostly dark. He neatly dodged the sprig of mistletoe that had been sneakily placed next to the refrigerator, and found a sticky note on the counter let him know there was dinner in the oven. He found a covered plate and peaked at the contents - whole grain spaghetti with soy meat balls and veggie sauce - before he set the oven to reheat the food. He'd just gotten a drink and was moving to examine a tray that had been left out on the counter when he heard voices that weren't coming from the living room.

A quick glance around the room revealed that the back window had been left open and there were two people standing on the back porch in the dark as they conversed.

"You said you'd be here," Stiles said, though it came across as an observation rather than an accusation.

"Here I am," Derek said, his silhouette moving out of sight from the window before stepping back again. "I was here when we decorated."

Stiles nodded so clearly that even his dad could make it out from the kitchen. "Yes, you were. Which is good. But being here involves more than showing up late and lurking in the corner of the kitchen and growling whenever anyone comes near."

"I didn't growl," Derek said, though now his voice nearly was a growl.

"Uh huh. Then why did I hear what distinctly sounded like a growl and Allison never came back in the kitchen after that?" Stiles asked, and then continued on without pausing for an answer. "Look, I get it. Christmas is hard. There are people that should be here that aren't, and every time something reminds you it just feels worse. But, newsflash, you're not the only one dealing with that here, not by a long shot. There are enough dead and absent parents in the pack for a whole collection of Disney movies."

Derek remained silent but his dark form paced out of sight again.

Stiles was quiet for a moment but perked up immediately. "Ah ha, I've got it. You have to participate in Christmas stuff because it sets a good example for the betas. Isaac says he's too old for Christmas, so if you're doing Christmas things with the pack then clearly Isaac can't be too old to do them too."

"Isaac said that?" Derek asked.

"Exactly," Stiles said as though that proved his point. Which, in some respects, it almost did. "Look, I promise you will get plenty of time for brooding alone in the woods, but at least make the effort to be there for your betas when we're together as a pack. Just like in the summer; pack means you too. So, wolf-up, go inside, eat some of the peanut brittle Erica and Boyd tried to make, and then go play a game of Spoons with the pack. That simple. One day at a time," Stiles instructed, stepping forward to clap Derek on the shoulder.

Derek seemed like he was having trouble picking just one thing to respond to, which the Sheriff could completely understand, but he finally just asked, "Tried?"

Stiles nodded vigorously. "You're a werewolf, it won't kill you - though I'm not sure I can say the same for the rest of us. Just tell them it was good and maybe get Erica a recipe book for Christmas or something."

The Sheriff pulled his hand away from the contents of the tray he had been about to examine because it looked and smelled nothing like peanut brittle should and was probably responsible for the lingering hint of smoke in the air. The beep of the timer called him back to the oven for his dinner and by the time he'd retrieved his plate and located silverware, though there were no spoons left in the drawer, Stiles and Derek were coming in through the back door.

Derek gave the tray of peanut brittle a wide berth but walked through the kitchen and down the hallway, nodding at the Sheriff as he went.

Stiles came and leaned on the back of the chair next to where his dad was sitting. "I see you found dinner."

"I did, thank you," the Sheriff said, taking a bite and deciding that soy meatballs weren't quite the travesty they sounded, if he coated them in enough sauce first. "Everything okay?"

"Well, it's a good thing that werewolves can smell when something is burning before it actually burns," Stiles said conversationally before he lowered his voice and added, "We might have spooked Derek a little with the smell of smoke. There really wasn't much smoke, but it smells stronger to the wolves."

"Good to know," he said, side-eyeing Stiles. "I don't need to make rules about the oven, do I?"

"Nah, Lydia already took care of it," Stiles said with a shake of his head. "Oh, did you want in on the Secret Santa? We're drawing names tonight but we decided to hold off to see if you wanted to join in."

"You don't want it just to be among you kids?" he asked, a little surprised to even be asked.

Stiles grinned. "Nope. Scott and I asked Dr. Deaton and Mrs. McCall, but they didn't want to. So, it's optional, unless your name is Derek, in which case it's a requirement," Stiles said, directing his voice towards the living room for the last part. "But, it will be fun and you want to have fun, right?"

"Sure," he said, not entirely positive that this was the best idea, but if Derek could set a good example for the pack, he could as well. "I'm in."

"Awesome, I'll add your name to the hat," Stiles said, pushing away from the chair and racing out of the kitchen. "Come into the living room when you're done eating," he shouted from down the hall.

He shook his head and ate his meal, listening to the occasional shouts coming from the living room. It sounded very much like any ordinary party, even though a few months ago he never would have predicted having most of these kids in his living room for any reason. That only got stranger when he took into account that a good number of them were werewolves, something which he accepted when he could and turned a blind-eye to when he couldn't quite get his mind around it yet. At the very least he was slowly becoming inured to the sight of teenagers with glowing eyes and fangs sneaking around his house in the middle of the night.

When he'd finished eating, wondering how the kids knew exactly how much food to leave him, he put his dishes away and considered the peanut brittle one more time before deciding that it was better to leave that tray alone until someone else made it disappear. The kids had already wrapped up their group game when he went into the living room, the cards now being used in what appeared to be a game of slapjack between Stiles, Erica, Scott, and Allison. Danny, Jackson, and Lydia were sitting together on the couch, Jackson and Lydia leaning in to watch whatever Danny was showing them on his computer. Isaac and Boyd were sitting in one of the armchairs, Isaac on the edge of the arm and leaning in to talk to Boyd about something, and Derek occupied the other armchair.

Boyd hopped out of the armchair, Isaac following too quick to be seen, and the Sheriff took the seat and put his feet up. "Thanks," he told them, smiling as they sat near the slapjack game on the floor.

"No claws!" Stiles called as his hand darted in to slap the cards and take the discard pile.

"Like we would," Erica said, using her human fingers to making a clawing motion at Stiles as they resumed the game.

Over on the couch Danny and Jackson started laughing hysterically at whatever they were looking at and Lydia rolled her eyes and got to her feet. "I don't even know why I like you," she told them, though both of the boys were grinning at her unabashedly as she stepped away. "Stiles, where did you put the hat?" she asked.

Stiles looked up from the game. "On the shelf in the hallway," he said, squawking when Allison took the opportunity to slap down on the pile of cards while Stiles was distracted.

Lydia left the room and returned a moment later with an actual black top hat. She caught the Sheriff's raised eyebrows and smiled knowingly. "It's Danny's," she explained, passing the hat to Derek when Derek stood and held out his hand, and then took the opportunity to sit in the chair he'd just vacated.

"Rules," Stiles said, bouncing to his feet to join Derek. "Gifts must remain under twenty dollars. Don't tell anyone who you've drawn or what you're getting them. And, you only get to put a name back in the hat if you draw your own name, and your Alpha will know if you're lying."

Derek rolled his eyes but offered the hat to Stiles, who made a big production of closing his eyes and rummaging around in the pieces of paper before pulling one out and reading it. He groaned dramatically and showed it to Derek. "Did you rig this?"

"Just put it back and draw another name," Derek said, waiting semi-patiently as Stiles dropped the paper back in and picked another one.

"Huh," Stiles said, reading it and then stuffing it in his pocket with a furtive glance around the room.

Derek continued around the room, offering the hat to Boyd and Lydia before he offered it to the Sheriff. The Sheriff reached into the hat, feeling a little silly, and drew a paper. It read _'Boyd'_ in Stiles' handwriting and the Sheriff nodded thoughtfully before he tucked the piece of paper into his shirt pocket. That would definitely be a challenge, though he supposed it would be easier than if he'd drawn one of the girls.

The room had gone mostly quiet as people received their names, though Erica and Allison were whispering and giggling from the floor. Derek finished his rounds, taking the last piece of paper for himself with a single quirk of his eyebrow, and then he handed the top hat back to Danny. Danny flipped the top hat in the air and it landed neatly on his head, but it only got to stay for a moment before Jackson flicked the brim.

"Okay," Allison said, jumping up from the card game on the floor. "Are we doing _Monopoly_ in teams or _Pictionary_?"

"What happened to _Twister_?" Scott asked.

"Never again!" Stiles, Danny, and Lydia all shouted at the same time, leaving the entire room in a shocked silence before everyone started laughing and arguing about what they should play.

The Sheriff got to his feet and edged toward the door, shooting an amused and partially pitying smile at Derek who looked like he very much wished to make his own escape. About two hours later, from where he had been kicked back in his office doing some reading that wasn't related to work nor to werewolves, he heard the sounds of the kids leaving. A glance at the clock told him it was past time for him to make his way to bed if he wanted to be thinking on his feet when he went to work at five the next morning, and he checked his cellphone one last time before he got up and meandered into the kitchen.

Stiles and Isaac were there, Isaac munching on the peanut brittle without regard to his health, while Stiles was finishing off a bag of potato chips that must have been squirreled away somewhere else in the house. "The best part," Stiles was explaining, "is that you have to guess who your secret santa is at the end. So you have to be devious because otherwise they'll know who you are."

"Most of us will be able to tell just by smelling the gift to see who handled it," Isaac pointed out, reaching past Stiles to take another piece of the peanut brittle.

"Well, with werewolf ears and the complete inability of almost anyone to actually keep a secret around here, I'm guessing everyone will know within a week anyway. But it's still fun to try to be devious, that's the whole point," Stiles said, sadly examining at the inside of the empty bag of chips before sliding off the counter. "Hey, dad! Who did you get?"

The Sheriff shook his head. "I ate my paper, like all good secret agents do."

Isaac's eyes went wide and he glanced to Stiles to check whether or not the Sheriff could possibly be telling the truth.

Stiles just laughed. "I'll figure it out. I always do. Besides, unless you got me or Scott you're probably going to have to ask to figure out what people want. Unless you got Derek, in which case, you're on your own."

He raised his eyebrows, careful not to give anything away, and smiled in amusement when they both turned and left the kitchen. He relaxed for about thirty seconds before he heard Stiles shout, "Damn it!"

Curious, he stepped into the hallway and found Stiles and Isaac next to the staircase, both glaring up at the mistletoe that was now hanging right at the bottom of the stairs.

"Can you smell it and figure out who moved it?" Stiles asked, still looking up.

Isaac wrinkled his nose. "No, it smells weird. Like the woods, but wrong. Besides, most of us have handled it in the past few days."

Stiles rolled his eyes and leaned in, placing a swift kiss against the side of Isaac's jaw. "Come on, we still have that history project to start on and we can probably catch Scott online." They hurried up the steps and the Sheriff chuckled to himself as he reached up to move the mistletoe somewhere out of the way.


	4. Movie Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted Dec 10th.  
> Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments and kudos you've left!

The sound of clattering from the kitchen early Friday afternoon drew him from his home office and he narrowly avoided the mistletoe that was now hanging from the kitchen doorway. Stiles, Isaac, and Boyd had dozens of different plates and trays out and were setting up a variety of snacks. Boyd was at the oven, working over a baking sheet with some type of pizza rolls, while Stiles and Isaac were sorting food from grocery bags at the counter.

"Looks like you guys are trying to feed an army here," he commented, reaching for one of the bowls of chips only to get his hand slapped away by Stiles.

"Movie night," Stiles said, grabbing two bowls of chips and bringing them over to the far counter. "Everyone should be here within the next half hour and we can get started. You're joining us, right?"

The Sheriff took advantage of Stiles' turned back to sneak one of the chocolate covered pretzels, eating silently and holding his finger to his lips when he caught Isaac watching him. He swallowed, hiding a smile when Isaac turned away from Stiles with a ducked head. "Yeah, sure, I'll drop by from time to time. What are you watching?"

"Christmas classics," Stiles said, eyeing his dad briefly and then turning back to his task.

" _Elf_ is not a Christmas 'classic'," Boyd pointed out as he dusted flour from his hands.

"It's a new classic," Stiles quickly defended and then nudged Isaac with his elbow. "Isaac gets it, right?"

Isaac looked from Boyd to Stiles and then back again. "It's a good movie," he offered, absently munching on one of the tiny candy bars.

Stiles sputtered. "Good movie? You're supposed to be on my side. It's a, a-"

"Classic?" the Sheriff suggested, managing to keep a straight face.

"Exactly!" Stiles said firmly, about to say more before the sound of footsteps filled the front hallway. "Pack!" He grabbed two of the bowls and made toward the sounds of people. "Hey, Erica, oh-"

The Sheriff stepped forward just in time to see Erica grab Stiles as Stiles passed through the doorway - under the mistletoe - and kiss him quickly on the lips. Stiles flailed a little, Erica taking one of the bowls from him while Jackson used his werewolf-quick reflexes to snag the other bowl and disappear back down the hall with his bounty.

Stiles waved both of his hands as he was released and then looked up at the mistletoe. "Werewolves," he said, but he was smiling.

"Mistletoe," Erica returned with a smirk.

Stiles came back into the kitchen to grab another tray of food and this time managed to pass into the hallway without being captured under the mistletoe. "Come on, scaredy-wolves," Stiles taunted. "You can't hide in the kitchen all night."

The Sheriff leaned back against the counter and picked up the unguarded bowl of pretzels, more amused than he was willing to let on.

Isaac picked up a pan of rice crispy treats and exited the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to bend down to place a kiss on Erica's cheek and to let her press her lips to his. There was a quiet murmur between them, inaudible to human ears, and then Isaac went on his way down the hall.

The oven beeped and Boyd retrieved his batch of pizza rolls and put the next tray in. The Sheriff found a spatula on the opposite counter and passed it over, receiving a shy smile and a quiet "thanks" in return. Boyd filled the serving plate neatly and walked to the hallway, meeting Erica's kiss eagerly. He handed the plate over Erica's head and then picked Erica up and walked away with her instead, leaving Allison standing looking bemused while holding a plate of pizza rolls.

"Sometimes I've learned it's just better not to ask," she said and then popped one of the pizza rolls into her mouth.

"Good advice," the Sheriff told Allison, though he'd already had to implement that same advice on more than one occasion.

Allison grinned and stepped in the kitchen to grab one of the last waiting bowls. "Are you joining us? We're starting with _A Charlie Brown Christmas_."

The Sheriff considered it and nodded. He wasn't needed on patrol until late that night. "I can watch for a while."

Allison bounded back out of the kitchen, leaving the Sheriff to follow with his bowl of pretzels, and he stepped cautiously past the mistletoe before stopping to move it a few feet away so people could get to the bathroom and kitchen without being accosted.

The rest of the pack had already gathered in the living room and the Sheriff saw that his armchair had been left open for him. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd seemed more interested in the variety of junk food on the coffee table than the bickering conversation of who got to sit on the couch, Allison neatly making a place for herself next to Lydia who immediately leaned in to talk with their heads close while Jackson rolled his eyes and stole one of the pizza rolls from the plate Allison was still holding. The Sheriff nodded to Derek, who was occupying the other armchair, and got a nod in return that clearly said he was here because his pack was here and not because he felt the strong desire to watch Christmas movies.

"Okay, _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ is first, because that's just how things are, but the rest of them are up for vote," Stiles said as he backed away from the dvd player. He grabbed a bowl of caramel popcorn and came to sit on the footstool that had one of Derek's feet on it, angling so that they could share the food and both still see the tv. "Everyone ready?"

A chorus of "yes" and "press play" arose from the pack and Stiles pressed play on the remote. The Sheriff, who had seen the movie more times than he could possibly count since it was one of Stiles' favorite movies when he'd been little and he'd watched it repeatedly regardless of the time of year, found his attention more on the teens than on the tv screen. More people squeezed up onto the couch as the movie progressed, Scott squeezing in underneath Allison and Boyd sliding in next to Danny. Erica and Isaac made it about halfway through the movie before they stole a bowl of chips and came across the room to sit on the floor in between the armchairs, a blanket draped over Erica's shoulders as she rested her head on Isaac's shoulder and took chips from the bowl in his lap. The Sheriff munched on the chocolate covered pretzels, surrendering a handful to Stiles when Stiles gave him the evil eye. Giggling came from the couch when Allison and Danny danced along with the Christmas pageant music, and it was clear they'd probably seen the movie as many times as Stiles.

"What's next?" Stiles asked, but before he could get up Erica had abandoned her blanket and scrambled to the dvd player.

" _A Muppet Family Christmas_!" she called, changing out the dvd.

"What happened to voting?" Boyd asked, but he was smiling.

"It's Christmas, this is no time for democracy," Erica said, grinning back at him.

The Sheriff smiled and shook his head, passing the chocolate covered pretzels over to Derek as he stood. "I have some things to get done, but I'll be around," he said, thinking regretfully of the paperwork he still had to finish.

Before he'd even taken a single step Isaac had leapt into the chair he'd just abandoned, Erica landing on his lap a second later. "Dibs," Isaac said, ducking his head a little when he realized the Sheriff was still watching. Erica simply made herself comfortable instead of ceding the chair to Isaac.

The Sheriff shook his head and paused in the doorway long enough to watch the muppets start singing ' _We Need A Little Christmas_ ', humming to himself as he left because he knew the Muppets movies backwards and forwards. He paused in the kitchen, poured himself a glass of milk and snagged the half empty bag of chips that had been left behind, and made his way into his home office to get some work done. He left his door open so he could hear the distant sounds of the movie and the occasional shouts and clatter from the kids.

He ducked back out a few hours later, searching out dinner, and on his way back to his office he poked his head in the living room. They had moved onto a stop-motion animated show that he vaguely recognized and there was a figure with flames for hair dancing and singing a very catchy song about how he liked things hot.

"Okay, does that guy remind anyone else of the drought monster thing that we took out at the end of the summer?" Jackson asked, sounding more than a little disturbed.

Various members of the pack nodded. "I'm seriously disturbed," Stiles added. "Do you think whoever wrote this show knows about all of this stuff?"

"I'm more concerned that if the _Heat Miser_ is real, what about the _Snow Miser_?" Danny asked. "I don't know about you guys, but I really don't want to deal with a blizzard monster."

Lydia sighed. "It wasn't a drought monster, it was a Cherufe that was lost. Do you even pay attention?"

"You have to admit it looked an awful lot like that guy though," Erica said. At some point she had migrated back to the couch to sit with Boyd and Danny had moved over to the armchair. Isaac was now on the floor next to Stiles, his head against Derek's knee.

The Sheriff shook his head and stepped back out. He hadn't heard any tales about drought monsters or whatever a Cherufe was, but he hoped that it hadn't sung and danced. His dreams were disturbing enough without adding musical monsters to the mix.

The next time he passed by the living room several of the kids were now laying on the floor and staring up at the tv, heads sharing pillows and more eyes closed than open. Derek had moved over onto the couch and was talking quietly with Isaac, _The Santa Clause_ covering most of their conversation. The Sheriff snuck away before any of them reacted to his presence, though he doubted that his presence had gone unobserved by the werewolves who were still awake.

By the time he'd wrapped up the rest of his paperwork, the holiday having somehow doubled the stacks of cases that made their way across his desk that needed to be reviewed and signed - or in some cases, reviewed and sent back to the deputies who apparently thought that he was a teacher who was willing to fix their grammar and spelling mistakes. He resisted leaving notes to the effect of _'my teenaged son and his pack of werewolves can do better than this'_ and placed everything back into his file box to be transported back to the Sheriff's Department before he went out on patrol that night. He went upstairs to change into his uniform and a glance at the clock let him know it was fifteen minutes until eleven and he realized he hadn't heard the sounds of anyone getting ready to leave. Usually Allison was up and saying goodbye at ten thirty, because it took so long for everyone to finish saying goodbye and that they'd all see each other the next day.

The Sheriff went back downstairs and peered into the living room, ready to remind everyone to get a move on, and blinked as he found that everyone was asleep. Everyone except Derek.

Derek was sitting in the middle of the couch, the remote in one hand and his other arm stretched on the back of the couch to encompass where Erica, Stiles, and Scott were leaning up against his left side. To Derek's right Boyd, Danny, and Jackson were piled together, Jackson's legs over Danny's and his head resting against Derek's shoulder. On the floor Allison was in the middle of a pile of blankets, her forehead resting against Lydia's. Isaac was at Allison's back, his head at Derek's feet with Boyd's feet stretched out so they were resting over Isaac's legs.

There was a black and white movie playing on the tv and it only took the Sheriff a moment to identify _It's a Wonderful Life_. Derek's face was taut in the light thrown from the screen and his mouth pressed in a line as his eyes flickered from the movie and down to the sleeping group of teenagers gathered around him. The Sheriff had never particularly liked this movie, had never liked letting himself think about what could have been, and from the way Derek hand was clenching he thought that Derek probably felt the same way.

He stepped further into the living room and Derek turned off the tv without looking back, the only illumination now from the table lamp at the side of the room. The Sheriff reached down and gently shook Allison's ankle. She half sat up, clearly confused, and she blinked at Derek and then at the Sheriff. "What's wrong?"

"It's late, you have about five minutes before you need to leave if you want to keep your curfew," he said, watching as Isaac's eyes opened blearily and Lydia rolled over. "I'll drive you home, gather up your things."

Derek started nudging everyone on the couch, getting mumbled complaints and groans in response. "Up," he told them, standing and frowning when Jackson used the extra space to stretch out, Scott and Jackson shoving at each other in an attempt to claim the cushion for their heads.

Boyd was the next on his feet, Danny following with a yawn, and Stiles rolled off the couch from the other end. Allison was now sitting up, leaning against the couch as she rubbed at her eyes.

"I'll take her," Derek said to the Sheriff, as he located Allison's backpack and shoes from the pile behind the couch and passed a set of keys to Boyd. "That way I can leave her car at her house."

The Sheriff looked over where everyone was rousing themselves, Erica still out cold on the couch despite everyone moving around her. "I'll get them settled in here before I go to work," he agreed, and there was a small part of him that marveled that he completely trusted that Derek would get Allison home safely when a little over a year ago Derek had been a fugitive.

"We didn't even get to watch _Elf_ or _Rudolph_ ," Stiles complained around a yawn.

"Tomorrow," Scott said as he blinked at the tv and then over at Stiles. "I don't like sleeping right after that movie anyway. Weird dreams."

Stiles was on his feet by this time and he gave Allison a quick hug before he started nudging people toward the stairs, each pack member pausing to say a sleepy goodbye to Allison and Derek before they ambled away. Boyd was carrying Erica, her head rolling to rest against his shoulder, and a few minutes later - after Derek and Allison had left - he reappeared downstairs and started gathering his things.

"You're going home?" the Sheriff asked, gathering a cellphone from where it had been left on the floor.

Boyd nodded. "Have to be at work at five and my parent's house is closer," he said as he laced up his boots. "It's not that far of a run, but Derek doesn't like us running across town in the middle of the night alone. He doesn't say it, but-" Boyd shrugged.

The Sheriff nodded as he put on his own shoes, wondering a little at Boyd's work hours. "Drive safe."

Boyd grinned. "Derek's car," was all he said, holding up the keys before he was out the door.

Pausing at the window, the Sheriff watched the Camaro pull off the side of the street and disappear more quickly than the werewolves disappeared from the backyard into the woods. He scrawled a note on the pad of paper on the kitchen counter, letting everyone know that he would _not_ help the pack get out of any speeding tickets they received and that the living room should be cleaned up in the morning. Collecting his box of files, the Sheriff backed out of the house, content that most of the pack was safe at home for the night.


	5. Baking Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Discussion of infidelity regarding two minor characters (no one in the pack, nor anyone who has been mentioned before).  
> Chapter Six will be posted December 13th.

It was mid-afternoon when the Sheriff arrived at home and stepped out into the slightly chilly air. He didn't see any cars belonging to pack members parked outside as he retrieved the mail, so it came as a little bit of a surprise when he opened the front door and could smell something baking. There was music coming from the kitchen and as he hung up his jacket and set the mail aside he recognized the song as _Jingle Bell Rock_ and picked out the sounds of someone singing along.

" _What a bright time, it's the right time_ ," Erica sang, her voice clear as she stood at the counter with her back toward the door, swaying her hips ever so slightly in time to the music, " _to rock the night away_."

The Sheriff leaned against the door jam and watched for a moment, knowing Erica would know that he was there, and he took in the ingredients set out and a pan of snickerdoodles cooling on pot holders next to the oven. Erica was dressed down in tight jeans and a red top that revealed glimpses of her pale shoulders and arms through the lace. He'd noticed that she tended to dress more casually when she was here as opposed to when he saw her out and about with the pack. He didn't profess to know much about teenagers and their clothing habits, Stiles had to practically be bribed to go clothes shopping, but he thought that her more relaxed style of dress around the house maybe meant that she was comfortable with all of them.

Erica looked over her shoulder as she reached for a measuring cup. "Do you want to help or are you here to taste test?"

He glanced around and realized that her jacket and backpack were the only ones on the kitchen table. "Where's everyone else?" he asked as he went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

"Stiles said you wouldn't mind if I baked here, since all the stuff was already here?" Erica asked, standing slightly more rigidly even as she focused on getting peanut butter to stay inside the measuring cup.

"I don't mind at all," the Sheriff said, though his thoughts flashed briefly to the peanut butter brittle the pack had tried to make last week. The cookies that had already been baked seemed alright, at least. "I'm just curious since usually I see all of you in groups of twos or threes at a minimum."

Erica shrugged and pushed the paper with the recipe over to him. "Scott and Jackson made the lacrosse team stay late for practice, even though theoretically they're winding down for the holiday break. I don't know what they're so worried about, almost half the first line are werewolves and they have two humans in-the-know who can assist. If they can't win with that much of an advantage..." she trailed off as she shook her head.

The Sheriff went over to the fridge to find two eggs. "What about Lydia and Allison?"

"Christmas shopping at the mall," she answered, standing to the side of the bowl so the Sheriff could crack the eggs. She smiled as she looked up at him. "They invited me, but I just didn't feel like dealing with crowds of people today. The pack is great, but sometimes it's just nice to have a little bit of peace and quiet. Before you ask, Derek's off doing whatever it is he does when we're all at school. He'll show up when he finds out there are cookies, but not until all the clean up is done."

The Sheriff smiled back at her. "Do you want to measure the dry ingredients or stir all of this together?"

"I'll measure," she said decisively, handing the Sheriff the spoon she'd been scooping peanut butter with. "How was your day?"

"My day?" he asked, a little surprised. Usually he was asking about what was going on with the pack and it felt odd to have the tables suddenly turned.

Erica looked up from where she was scooping flour, the white powder settling on her blouse when she let it fall into the bowl a little too vigorously. "Sure. Being the Sheriff has to be more interesting than high school."

The Sheriff wasn't so sure about that after he'd heard a little about what went on with the pack at the high school. "You'd be surprised," he told her. "Mostly I did paperwork. I covered the dispatch line for the lunch hour since our regular dispatcher had a baby a few months back."

"That's depressing," Erica said, her spoon resting on the edge of her bowl. "If high school is the most exciting thing that ever happens, that's just sad."

He chuckled and finished blending the peanut butter with the rest of the batter. "Your high school career has already been a little more exciting than most, but I wouldn't worry. I don't think any of your are destined for a quiet life. And, some days, being the Sheriff is very-" he scrambled for something accurate yet not horrifying, "enlightening."

Erica snorted, catching his pause and probably filling in a few choice words of her own. 

"So, what made you decide to bake cookies?" the Sheriff asked after a lull, the radio on the windowsill switching over to _White Christmas_.

Erica concentrated on the bowl as she stirred the two mixtures together. "Well, my mom and I used to bake a lot cookies together at Christmas, when I was little. She used to do fundraisers and use them as gifts for the neighbors, you know. I mean, I didn't really bake, but she let me help mix the dough and stuff like that. I was seven when I had my first seizure, and after that things were really different. It was like, she didn't really so much do stuff with me anymore, but she felt like she had to do stuff for me. I don't know."

The Sheriff nodded, feeling a pain of regret at remembering Stiles helping his wife in the kitchen when Stiles had been little. He hadn't really baked with Stiles, before or after her death, though they both wound up becoming much more proficient in the kitchen due to necessity. "What about now?" he asked. He'd been told that being a werewolf hadn't completely cured Erica, but it kept her from having seizures under most circumstances.

She shook her head. "She's not really around so much. She's a flight attendant, so she travels a lot, even more so now that they think the medication I'm on is working really well. Before, she and dad would kind of trade off, but now he'll call and ask if I'm okay for the next day or two, and she'll call and let me know she's picking up another flight." A beep from the oven caught her attention. "Would you get those out and put the next sheet in?"

He went to the oven and used an oven mitt to pull out the tray of snickerdoodles and put in the third, resetting the timer and then picking up a spatula to remove the cookies from the tray that had already cooled. "Your dad works out of town?" he asked as he removed cookies and peered into the bowl of waiting dough.

"Yeah. It wasn't supposed to be a permanent thing, but he likes the opportunities in LA," Erica said and then sighed, setting her spoon down on the counter with a snap. "And by opportunities, I do mean _opportunities_. He's good at hiding it, I didn't even know until I realized that he smelled like a woman I didn't recognize. Though, to be fair to him, my mom smells like a lot of guys, and I don't just mean in the 'trapped in an airplane for 6 hours' kind of smell. If they ever actually saw each other for more than a few hours in passing they'd probably get divorced."

"I'm sorry," the Sheriff said, setting aside the spatula and turning to face Erica, taking in her concentrated frown and the way she was plucking at one of her sleeves. He had figured that given the number of nights she stayed here instead of going to her parent's house that she'd been lonely, but he'd had no idea why exactly when for all he'd heard in the town was that the Reyes were doing fine.

Erica shrugged, not quite managing casual. "It doesn't matter so much anymore, not to me at least. I've got the pack, and Boyd, and you and Mrs. McCall. More family than I know what to do with."

The Sheriff understood that completely, particularly how strange it was to suddenly go from having one family member to having a dozen. "Speaking of Boyd," he said, very well recognizing that Erica desperately wanted a change of subject. "What are his interests?"

Erica giggled and walked over to start making more snickerdoodles from the waiting bowl of dough. "You're his Secret Santa?"

"I didn't say that," he said, accepting the ball of dough and dipping it in the cinnamon sugar.

"Uh huh. Don't worry, I won't tell," she said with a smile. "Let's see. Boyd plays the acoustic guitar and writes songs. He writes poetry. He obsessively watches period dramas, but don't tell anyone that because he will chase me through the woods for revealing his big secret. He likes Thai and Cantonese food, and he's been trying to teach himself Chinese because the school only offers Spanish and French as foreign languages."

The Sheriff tried to wrap his mind around all of that and connect it to the quiet, thoughtful werewolf he saw hanging around the house. "Wow," he wound up saying, pausing to remove the already baked cookies from the tray that was now cool enough.

Erica laughed. "Yeah, he's amazing. He'll never say as much, he doesn't really let many people in, but once you've gotten behind his wall he always has something interesting to talk about."

"I can imagine," he said, hoping that one day he'd get to see that side of Boyd. At least he had some ideas now, whereas before he'd been utterly stumped.

They finished the last of the snickerdoodle cookie dough, each of them stealing a couple of the raw pieces when they clearly didn't have enough to make another sheet. He figured that the raw eggs in the batter wouldn't do a werewolf any harm, and well, he hadn't gotten sick yet from sneaking pieces of cookie dough here and there when he'd had the rare opportunity over the years. He'd just walked across the kitchen and finished washing his hands when he heard the timer go off.

"I've got it," Erica called as she raced over from where she'd been finishing prepping the peanut butter cookie dough. "Ow!"

The Sheriff was across the room before he had time to register the clatter of the cookie sheet against the stovetop, immediately noticing the red skin on Erica's thumb and forefinger, already starting to blister, from where the pot holder had slipped from her hand. "Over here," he said, his hand around her wrist as he quickly guided her over to the kitchen sink and held her hand under a cool stream of water. "You're alright," he told her, turning to gauge how upset she was and surprised to find that she was giving him an uncertain half-smile.

"I'm fine," she said and gently dislodged her hand from his and pulled it out from under the water. The blisters were already gone and the skin on her forefinger and thumb was now only slightly pink. "You forgot."

He had forgotten, acting on sheer parental memory from all the times he'd seen Stiles or Scott accidentally burn or cut themselves on something in the kitchen. "I'm glad you're okay," he told her, a little shaken from seeing her heal right in front of him - knowing and seeing were always two separate things.

"You're sweet," Erica told him with a soft smile. She dried her hand and then placed it on his shoulder, leaning up and giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. "Mistletoe."

The Sheriff looked up, and sure enough the mistletoe had been placed above the kitchen sink.

"The peanut butter dough is supposed to chill in the freezer for about ten minutes, will you wrap it up while I get out the stuff for the chocolate oatmeal cookies?" Erica asked, returning to the stove and putting in the next tray of snickerdoodles.

"Of course," he said, drying his own hands and digging through the drawers to find where Stiles had stashed the plastic wrap this time, smiling as Erica danced next to the oven to _Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree_ and sung along with the chorus. He joined in on the second chorus, getting a bright grin in return.

Two hours later they had just pulled the last tray of cookies from the oven, the kitchen warm and just about clean, when they heard the front door open and the telltale sounds of the pack thundering in.

"Mmm, cookies!" someone called, and Erica rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I told you'd they'd show up when all the work was done," she said, but she was smiling fondly as the pack poured into the kitchen.


	6. New Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter seven will be posted on Dec 15th.

"Over here!" a voice in the _Coffee at the Corner of Main and Main_ called out as the Sheriff entered the shop.

He scanned the crowd until he saw a hand waving at a table in the back corner. He made his way over, smiling and greeting the folks he recognized and ducking under holiday decorations that were hanging from the ceiling.

"Sorry I'm late," he told her as he took off his jacket and placed it over the back of the empty chair. He had been waylaid by a rather persistent man seeking advice on what to do about a neighbor who never returned the ladder or tools he had loaned him. The Sheriff had finally advised the man not to loan things to that particular neighbor and explained that he was late for an important meeting before excusing himself and fleeing.

"Don't worry about it," Melissa said, smiling as she pushed a cup in his direction. "I haven't been here long myself. I went ahead and got your coffee because the line is so long."

"Thank you," he said, taking a moment to doctor his coffee.

He and Melissa had been meeting a few times a month ever since the whole werewolf situation had come to light. At first it had been a way of working through their joint shock and concern without alarming or alienating their children, and their conversations had mostly focused on re-examining the past year with new eyes. Gradually it had moved to a more proactive set of conversations; making sure they were both on the same page and figuring out what they could do to keep everyone safe. Not to mention it was nice to have an occasional conversation with someone 'in the know' who wasn't a teenager. They hadn't found an opportunity to meet within the last two weeks, both busy with the increased duties that the holidays brought to their jobs - fortunately there hadn't been any werewolf related emergencies in the past little while.

When the Sheriff was settled, the sound of carolers outside waxing and waning as patrons entered and exited the coffee shop, Melissa smiled and asked "Dare I ask if the kids decorated your house too?"

The Sheriff laughed. "You too? Mistletoe?"

Melissa shook her head but she was smiling. "No mistletoe, but I have lights that flash to some kind of rock metal version of _Carol of the Bells_. My neighbors keep shooting me dirty looks when I back out of the driveway."

"I'm reasonably certain my neighbors think I've lost my mind, though I was spared the musical accompaniment. You might suggest to Danny that he hook it up to a timer so the music and lights stop after ten or eleven at night," the Sheriff suggested, secretly thankful his house had escaped some seasonal song on endless repeat.

"I'll keep that in mind. Everything okay with your group for the moment?" she asked.

The Sheriff nodded thoughtfully. "They seem to be alright. I haven't seen anyone come home with their clothes bloody and shredded in a few weeks. Yours?"

Melissa frowned ever so briefly in the way that meant she was considering whether or not to say something. "Good, for the most part. I've had the girls over more frequently this past little bit, even when Scott has been out with Stiles and Isaac. Any thoughts?"

The Sheriff had noticed that Lydia had spent most of the nights that week sleeping in the pack bedroom, and Erica had stayed over until her mom was due back yesterday evening. He wasn't even sure if Lydia's mother was in town at the moment. "Lonely with the holidays, I would imagine," he said, Melissa nodding regretfully. Isaac had once told him that almost none of the pack had parents who were at all aware of their children. He had thought it was a typical teenager exaggeration - this was before he had learned that Isaac very rarely exaggerated anything and far more frequently understated a situation - but then he had come to find that most of the other parents of the pack members truly had little time or attention for their children. The Sheriff knew he and Melissa weren't exceptions, they both were occupied with demanding jobs and long hours, but after hearing about their children nearly dying several times over the course of the last year they had both decided to delegate some of their responsibilities when they possibly could and to keep in better contact when they couldn't be there in person.

"I was thinking of taking a group down to the city to shop on Sunday," Melissa said, sipping at her coffee. "Thought I would check to see if you'd like to come." It was entirely clear that she was angling for a second adult to help contain the insanity.

"Unfortunately, I'm working a double on Sunday," the Sheriff said, fully ready to throw Melissa to the wolves if she was planning a big shopping trip. He'd keep the kids out of legal trouble, house them, wait up in the night to make sure they were safe, and Melissa could handle patching them up, hassling them about their grades, and taking them shopping. It was why they were such a good team.

Melissa grinned, clearly on to him. "That is unfortunate."

The Sheriff shook his head. "I'm taking the lot to the tree farm and that's the best you're getting out of me," he said, though he couldn't help but smile back at Melissa.

They spent the next twenty minutes going over their plans and schedules for the next two weeks and touching base on any minor issues they'd noticed. The Sheriff walked Melissa out to her car and checked the time. He was on patrol for the next three hours and then home in time for dinner, all of which felt perfect for a moderately chilly December afternoon.

*****

It wasn't often that he noticed something off before he even pulled into the driveway of his home, but today the small crowd of werewolves squashed in his wide open front door was particularly attention grabbing. A little concerned, because after all the tales he'd heard about the various exploits of the pack his mind was filled dozens of horror tales all featuring his son, he rested his hand at his holster as he walked up the front steps. He had finally decided to go with wolfsbane bullets in the backup weapon at his ankle, but he'd heard enough to know that wolfsbane bullets wouldn't do much against some of the things out there in the world.

"Sheriff Stilinski," Derek greeted, causing the crowd of teenagers in the doorway to twist around and give their own sheepish greetings.

"What seems to be the trouble?" the Sheriff asked, watching expressions ranging from embarrassed to stubborn all shift to slightly uncertain.

"Derek is disrespecting the rules of the mistletoe!" Stiles shouted from somewhere further in the house.

Derek rolled his eyes and looked incredibly put-upon. "And just whose bright idea was it to put the mistletoe in the doorway?" he asked, the slightest edge of a growl in his voice.

The Sheriff tipped his head to the side to look past the kids and sure enough the mistletoe was hanging just beyond the front door.

"We'll never tell," Allison chimed in from inside the house. "Now hurry up and kiss them. Danny and I are making hot chocolate and if you don't want Jackson and Stiles to eat all the marshmallows you'll get in here soon."

Scott groaned from where he was squished between Isaac and the doorframe. "Come on Derek. We can smell the hot chocolate."

The Sheriff was about to intercede and say no one had to kiss anyone when Derek leaned down slightly to place kisses in quick succession on the foreheads of Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica. Derek looked to the Sheriff warily as the pack squirmed past him.

"I'm all the way out here," the Sheriff said. "Though I might suggest you put that somewhere out of the way."

Derek nodded and reached up to retrieve the mistletoe, giving it a considering look before he stalked off with a particularly mischievous glint in his eyes.

The Sheriff shook his head and went inside, pausing by the kitchen to take in the kids gathered around the counters. "No more mistletoe in entrances and exits. It's a fire code thing," he said and then left before they could question him on the subject matter.

"No way is that legal," Stiles said, sounding more amused than anything else.

"Hang on, I'm Googling it," Danny said, and when the Sheriff came back in the kitchen - sans weapons, jacket, and boots - he found half the pack gathered around Danny's phone.

"Legal or not, the rule stands," the Sheriff said as he was passed a cup of hot chocolate with so many marshmallows floating on top that he couldn't see the drink itself.

Stiles grinned as he walked by. "I suppose that means I can't put the mistletoe in my bedroom window. Dad, we got take out, yours is in the fridge."

"Thank you," he said, waving as the rest of the pack filed out with their own drinks. After a few minutes of sipping at his hot chocolate and paging through the newspaper, he found the food that had been brought home for him and rolled his eyes as he realized that Stiles must have bossed the rest of the pack into making sure no one ordered him french fries or anything with cheese. He settled into his chef's salad and mashed potatoes, though he did dig through the fridge until he found the real butter at the back. Half an hour later he was finished eating and done with the newspaper, and had just finished tidying up when he heard music coming from the living room.

He wandered down the hallway and leaned in the doorway, watching and listening as Lydia, Jackson, and Danny sang _Angels We Have Heard On High_. Scott and Allison were squished together in one of the armchairs, listening happily. Isaac, Erica and Boyd were all sprawled on the floor, Erica's lips bright red from the candy cane she was sucking on. Stiles, Lydia, and Danny were all on the couch, Jackson sitting on the floor with his fingers intertwined with Lydia's. Even Derek looked absolutely content, munching on a candy cane with small snaps as he watched his pack. The mistletoe was nowhere to be seen.

Lydia and Danny both laughed when they finished the song, Jackson tipping his head back to look up at them. "Weren't you in the choir too, Stiles?" Jackson asked.

Stiles blushed lightly. "Yeah, for a year or two. I don't really remember the songs."

The Sheriff nodded to himself, remembering when his wife had taken Stiles with her to church every Sunday - whenever the Sheriff had asked her about it she had just said that they could use all the help they could get, and Stiles had seemed to enjoy the children's choir during the years he'd been a member.

"Pick one," Erica called, rolling to her side so she was facing the couch. "Your favorite."

Stiles made a face at her, his tongue red from the half-eaten candy cane he was holding. "Fine. Uh. _The Holly and the Ivy_."

"That's your favorite?" Danny asked, getting a light swat on his thigh from Lydia for his trouble.

"Yes, that's my favorite. I'm not singing it alone," Stiles said, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I'll start," Lydia said, and she smiled at Stiles and began singing. Stiles joined her by _"of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown"_ and Danny and Jackson jumped in at the chorus.

The Sheriff listened as they went through all the verses, all the while wondering if Stiles remembered that _The Holly and the Ivy_ had been Stiles' mother's favorite carol, and if that was the reason it was Stiles' favorite. He backed away, leaving the kids to it.

Later, when Stiles came bounding into the kitchen, the Sheriff looked up from the file he was looking through and watched as Stiles rummaged in the fridge for a snack.

Stiles looked up and smiled. "New moon tonight, they're all pretty mellow. I don't think we could have ever convinced Jackson to sing carols otherwise."

The Sheriff returned the smile fondly, his earlier question about Stiles' choice in carols lingering unasked on his lips. "Good to hear," he finally said.


	7. Christmas Trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 will be posted Dec 18th.  
> Content Notes: This chapter in particular focuses on characters experiencing the aftermath of the minor canon character deaths in season 2.

It was the easiest Christmas tree the Sheriff could ever remember getting, mostly because he'd told the kids absolutely nothing over seven feet and then set them loose on the tree lot while he stepped back and watched. More than once he saw various werewolves with their faces deep in the branches of a tree, pulling back with either approving nods or shaking their heads and rubbing at their noses - at one point Scott stumbled away from a Douglas Fir and sneezed violently. It only took about thirty minutes for them to find a tree that was the right height, that all the werewolves could stand the smell of - they all preferred spruces to the firs and pines - and that Lydia, Danny, and Jackson decided was appropriately shaped. They wound up with a Blue Spruce that just scraped under the seven foot limit. The Sheriff didn't even have to lift the tree, Derek hefting the weight while Erica grabbed onto the far end to keep it balanced, though he did nab Stiles to keep him out of the way while the werewolves got it tied to the roof of Stiles' jeep.

With four cars, Stiles' jeep in the lead, the Sheriff couldn't help think that they looked like a miniature parade - if Christmas parades were overwhelmingly comprised of festive werewolves - particularly since several members of the pack had donned santa hats and cloth reindeer antlers. Scott was sitting in the back of the Sheriff's car with Allison, and when the Sheriff glanced back in the rear view mirror he saw Allison adjusting Scott's antlers and then resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's nice that we're doing a Christmas tree," she said. "We appreciate it."

The Sheriff glanced back again as he pulled up behind Jackson's Porsche at the red light. "Don't worry about it. It's good to have all of you around," he said, catching Scott's concern as well.

"We're not doing a tree this year; me and my dad, I mean," she continued, her mouth flattening as she looked out the side window. "He says there's no point, since we're going to spend Christmas with my mom's family. But, it's not the same. Everywhere we've lived we've always had a tree at Christmas. Even when we moved to Spokane five days before Christmas, the first thing we got was a tree."

Scott wrapped his arm around Allison's shoulder. "It's not the same," he agree quietly. "But maybe it would be weirder if it was the same."

Allison nodded and closed her eyes. "I'm just glad we get to have one with the pack. It's good."

The Sheriff swallowed and met Scott's gaze very briefly before he had to turn his attention back to the road. He had known that this was Allison's first Christmas without her mother, and even if the situation had been less than ideal before Victoria Argent's death, that didn't mean that Allison wouldn't miss her and be thinking about her. It sounded like Chris Argent was struggling as well, understandably so, and the Sheriff thought of that first Christmas after his wife died. "Do you kids want a snack while you decorate the tree?" he asked, pushing past the tightness that had briefly constricted his breathing.

"I think we have some of the left over pizza rolls that Boyd froze," Scott said hopefully. "Oh, and isn't there ice cream too?"

"We just had dinner before we went looking for trees," Allison protested. "That wasn't even an hour ago."

The Sheriff chucked to himself as he pulled into the driveway behind Stiles. If he'd learned anything in the past few months it was that the appetites of teenaged werewolves far surpassed anything that he'd previously imagined possible, and even Derek could pack away more food than seemed likely. "I'm pretty sure there are pizza rolls left, that's if Stiles and Isaac didn't already get to them," he said as he parked and let the kids bound out of the car before he got out and went inside before they wrangled the tree off the roof of Stiles' jeep.

By the time he'd heated the oven and popped the pizza rolls inside, as well as poured himself a cup of coffee that he'd probably regret later but desperately needed at the moment, and made his way back into the living room, the tree was in the stand and the pack was digging through the various boxes Stiles must have dug up from the basement.

"We're supposed to have a third strand of lights in here somewhere," Stiles said as he went through the box labeled _'Lights'_. "I swear we do."

"In here?" Boyd asked, holding up a box that had _'Lights'_ crossed out and _'Assorted Decorations'_ written above it, both in the Sheriff's wife's swooping handwriting.

"No, that box didn't fit the things," Stiles said, using his hands to indicate the plastic storage pieces they wrapped the string of lights around so they wouldn't get tangled. "Hmm, maybe in the garage."

"I'll look," Lydia said from where she was standing near the entrance of the room. She wrapped her hand around Jackson's and tugged him with her.

"Try the shelves on the far side!" Stiles shouted.

"You don't have to shout!" Jackson hollered back, the garage door slamming behind him.

Stiles tipped his head from side to side as he dug back in the box. "Don't have to," he muttered and then he found a green hat with elf ears in the box labeled _'Lights'_ and jammed it on his head.

The Sheriff leaned against the wall and watched as they started with the first set of lights, Derek wading into the fray before long to prevent an all out battle about how the lights were supposed to go on the tree. A beep from the kitchen drew him back and he pulled out the tray of pizza rolls and refreshed his cup of coffee - he was definitely going to regret that come tomorrow morning. He brought the plate of pizza rolls into the living room, snacking on one while he watched the ongoing struggle with the lights.

"I think Lydia and Jackson got lost," Stiles said from where he and Erica were half in the tree with the tail end of a string of lights. "Would someone go help them?"

"I'll go," the Sheriff said, taking his coffee and another pizza roll with him. He hadn't the slightest idea if there were actually Christmas tree lights in the garage or not, or where he'd find them if there were, but he figured he'd have the best chance of actually finding them. He opened the door and went down the steps into the garage, stopping abruptly when he saw Lydia pressing Jackson up against the shelves and their mouths locked together. Sure enough, when he glanced up, the mistletoe was hanging right above them. The Sheriff hadn't seen it since Derek had ran off with it, and he'd started to think that maybe Derek had gotten rid of it entirely. But instead it was right where no one could see it if the garage door was up and pretty much no one went in the garage unless they'd driven inside.

Jackson's eyes had opened at the sound of the Sheriff's footsteps and he tapped Lydia's shoulder, but Lydia kept her mouth to Jackson's for another few seconds before she backed away with a sly smile.

"Oh, look. I think these were the lights Stiles was looking for," she said and reached past Jackson's head to a box on one of the shelves that was labeled _'lights - xmas'_ in Stiles' handwriting. She took the box and smiled at the Sheriff as she walked primly up the steps and back into the house.

The Sheriff raised his eyes at Jackson, who rubbed at his mouth and then reached up to unhook the mistletoe.

"I'll just, put this somewhere else," Jackson said, and then he hurried past the Sheriff with far less poise than Lydia had managed.

The Sheriff shook his head and took another sip of his coffee, and then finally decided to cut his losses by simply being thankful that everyone still had their clothes on when he'd come into the garage. He went back into the living room and settled back in his chair, watching as they finished with the lights and started in on the rest of the decorations. With all of them going back and forth, digging through boxes, and talking over each other, it took the Sheriff a few minutes to notice Isaac sitting on the side of the couch with an ornament in his hands and a concentrated expression. It was one of those glass baubles, this one a dark blue with glittery silver in patterns over the surface. Some of the silver had worn off through years of being handled, and Isaac was gently twirling it back and forth as he stared with furrowed eyebrows.

Allison came to Isaac's side and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I think I see a good place for that," she said, bending down to meet his eyes.

Isaac nodded after a moment and stood, letting Allison guide him over to the tree and point out a place for him to hang the bauble. Scott popped up next to Isaac a moment late and draped a spare piece of tinsel around Isaac's neck, all three of them huddled together as they passed each other ornaments, and after a few minutes Isaac stole Scott's reindeer antlers in retaliation for being decorated with tinsle.

They were just about finished, the tree weighed down under pretty much every ornament in the house, when Stiles wiggled his way free of the pack and picked up a box about the size of a shoe box and held it out to his dad.

The Sheriff set aside his now empty cup and got to his feet, accepting the box and opening it carefully. It was an angel, one of the things his wife had brought with her into their marriage, and it had topped every Christmas tree they'd put up for more than twenty years now. The pack stepped back enough to let him through and the Sheriff reached up and was just barely tall enough to slip the angel in place over the top branches. He moved back and Derek ducked down to plug in the tree lights and someone turned off the overhead light.

In the muted, colored lights, everyone was cast in shadows and they stood in a rough circle and gazed at their handiwork. Derek was standing surrounded by Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. To Isaac's right were Allison and Scott, their hands intertwined. Stiles stepped in between Scott and the Sheriff, smiling briefly at his dad before he turned back to the tree. Lydia was to the Sheriff's right, Jackson's arm around her waist, and Danny stood shoulder to shoulder with Jackson. "Perfect," someone said, their voice half lost in the group, and the Sheriff thought that it as perfect as it could be in an imperfect world.

*****

It was moving on past ten when the kids started heading out in groups. Lydia and Erica left together, Erica explaining that they were sleeping over at Lydia's house before they went shopping with Melissa in the morning. Jackson and Danny followed them out since Jackson was their ride. Scott and Allison left together a few minutes later, after Scott and Stiles finished goofing around upstairs. Derek and Boyd left on foot through the backyard, both of them vaulting easily over the fence and disappearing through the woods as the Sheriff watched from the kitchen window. Satisfied that everyone was were they should be for the night, the Sheriff finished tidying up the kitchen and walked back into the main hallway to lock up the house.

He paused in the entrance to the living room, surprised to find the Christmas tree still lit up. Isaac was sitting on the floor staring up at the tree with a rapt expression - he didn't even look up at the Sheriff's approach. Isaac had been quiet most of the night, more quiet than usual even, and the Sheriff couldn't help but think that the tree had some meaning for Isaac that the rest of them weren't seeing. On the verge of going in and seeing if Isaac wanted to talk when the sound of Stiles half tripping down the stairs drew his attention away.

"Boyd's already gone? I was going to loan him this and I keep forgetting," Stiles said, waving a thick book.

The click of the window falling closed caught both their attention before the Sheriff could respond and he stepped back into the living room despite already knowing what he'd find. The room was empty, the curtain still swaying slightly from Isaac's abrupt exit, and Stiles sighed when he stopped at his dad's side.

"Any ideas?" the Sheriff asked, knowing that Isaac would sometimes talk to Stiles when he wouldn't talk to anyone else.

Stiles shook his head. "I don't know. All of Derek's Betas do this sometimes."

"Just Derek's Beta wolves?" the Sheriff asked, genuinely curious.

"Everyone in the pack is damaged in someway, I don't think we could have done this," Stiles waved his hands around to indicate the pack as a whole, "if we weren't. It's just more obvious with some of us," Stiles said and then sighed. "He didn't take his jacket."

The Sheriff smiled a little because just the other day he'd worried about Stiles being at school without a jacket. He turned and clasped his hand on Stiles' shoulder, wishing - just a little - that Stiles hadn't needed the pack. It wasn't that he hadn't come to enjoy the company of the pack, or that he hadn't started to think of some of them as practically his own children, but he wished that he had been there enough that Stiles hadn't had a void he needed to fill.

Stiles leaned into the touch and nodded to the tree. "I think it came out pretty good, all things considered."

The Sheriff followed his son's gaze and nodded. "You guys did a good job." They stood together for a minute before Stiles' pulled away and went back to the stairs. "Are you going with Melissa tomorrow?"

"Nah, me and Isaac and Boyd are hanging around here for a video game marathon. Everyone else got suckered into shopping," Stiles said, pausing on the steps briefly before he hurried upstairs.

Heaving a sigh the Sheriff finished locking up the house, except for the living room window that had practically become a second doorway, and picked up a book and settled back into his chair. With his reading glasses on and the lamp next to him, he let himself get absorbed in the mystery - though he was reasonably sure he'd pegged the bad guy within the first fifty pages - and checked his cellphone every twenty minutes or so. He'd been right that drinking coffee so late in the evening had been a spectacularly bad idea, his eyes wide-open as he finished the book and he shuffled through the house once more. Stiles had fallen asleep with his laptop in bed and the Sheriff saved the document Stiles had been working on before he closed the laptop and placed it on Stiles' desk, drawing Stiles' blankets over him and turning out his lamp before he backed out of the bedroom.

It was close to midnight by the time he returned to the living room and if Isaac didn't text him in the next ten minutes or so he was going to have to call Derek to see if Isaac had shown up. The thought that there were still werewolf Hunters in Beacon Hills, Hunters that evidently regularly patrolled the woods, set him on edge every time he knew one or more of the kids was out late at night. He thought it was the number of bodies he'd recovered from the woods in the past year and that it was all too easy to imagine being called in only to discover that the body was Isaac's or Erica's, or even Derek's. He didn't know that the pack would survive the death of any of them, and the Sheriff didn't know how well he'd handle losing any of them either. There had been too much death already.

The window slid open two minutes before midnight and Isaac climbed in, freezing in place when he saw that the Sheriff had stayed up waiting.

"Close the window," the Sheriff instructed after a moment. Isaac did as he was asked and then wrapped his arms around his chest, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "Come take a seat," the Sheriff added when Isaac made no move to leave the room.

Isaac did, sitting on the edge of the couch with his eyes flickering towards the exits every couple of seconds. "Am I late?" he finally asked, his voice low.

The Sheriff shook his head. "Nope, right on time. I just wanted to check in with you. Everything alright?"

Isaac nodded immediately, but he glanced to the tree and his gaze stayed there for an endless moment before he looked away. "It's just been a long time," he finally said, nodding his head in the direction of the tree.

It didn't take him more than a second to remember that this was Isaac's first Christmas since his father's death and, much like the death of Victoria Argent, it had probably left a mess of mixed emotions for the kids to deal with. "Since you last celebrated Christmas?" the Sheriff finally asked, watching Isaac watch the tree.

Isaac nodded again, more slowly this time. "The first Christmas after my mom died, I'd been over at Matt's and his family had a tree. And I asked my dad if we were going to have a Christmas tree that year. He kinda looked at me and said that Camden and I were too old for Christmas, that Christmas was for little kids. After that Camden and I did Christmas stuff just between the two of us; he got me a comic book I'd been wanting, and I think I gave him a candy bar I'd been saving and an ornament thing I made at school because I knew my dad wouldn't want it. Camden always made sure I got something for Christmas, he even put decorations under the top bunk so I could see them. After he was gone, there didn't really seem any point in doing anything."

"I'm glad you're here with us," the Sheriff said, meaning that and more, but wary of how far he could push Isaac about the topic. "I've been meaning to ask you what you wanted for Christmas."

Isaac looked at the Sheriff, his expression almost frighteningly blank. "I have everything I need, thank you. More than everything. I'm going to go to bed, if that's okay?"

The Sheriff nodded. "Of course," he said, and he sat back in his chair and watched as Isaac darted up the stairs in a blur of motion. He sat for a long time before he unplugged the lights on the tree and went upstairs, pausing by the pack bedroom to make sure that Isaac had stayed in the house and hadn't bolted again. With both of his kids safe in their beds, the Sheriff went to his own bed and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.


	8. Out of the Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Canon Typical Violence warning applies to this chapter specifically.  
> Chapter 9 will be posted on Dec 21st.

It wasn't often the Sheriff was at home for breakfast on weekdays, at least not after the kids were awake but before they'd left for school - he'd usually either already left for work, wasn't home yet, or was still asleep after stumbling in at some ungodly hour in the morning. The previous night both Erica and Lydia had stayed over, and by the time the Sheriff made it to the table with a cup of coffee and a plate of toast and scrambled eggs, everyone but Stiles was already present. Erica had abandoned her bowl of cereal for the homework she was trying to finish, Lydia had a bowl of oatmeal and was texting with her free hand, and though Isaac had a bowl of cereal he didn't seem awake enough to do more than occasionally remember to take a bite.

The Sheriff sat and started to eat, leaning over to look at Erica's notebook when she pushed it his way with a question about World War I and the goals of the allied factions.

"Test in first period," she mumbled unhappily. "Mr. Stephenson always gives us short answer and essay questions instead of multiple choice."

Between bites of toast the Sheriff drudged up as much of his own history courses as he could recall, Lydia chiming in occasionally without ever looking up from her phone. Erica had just started to look slightly more hopeful about the prospect of passing her test when Stiles stormed in the kitchen and dropped something wet on the table.

At first the Sheriff was more concerned that his son was only wearing a towel, not to mention the fact that he was dripping on the floor, but then he identified the object on the table. It was the mistletoe.

"I reached for the shampoo and this fell on me!" Stiles exclaimed while making wide gestures, just barely remembering to grab onto the edge of his towel so it didn't fall off.

The Sheriff's eyebrows rose. "It was in the shower?" He hadn't seen it since Jackson had run off with it during the weekend and he'd assumed that Jackson had taken up the challenge to find somewhere particularly tricky.

"It was hooked over the edge of the light fixture in the shower, yes," Stiles said, suddenly seeming to realize that he was standing mostly naked in front of his dad and about a third of the pack. "No, just no. And with that, I'm going to go finish my shower."

Stiles actually made it out of the kitchen before Erica started giggling, Lydia a half step behind her, and Isaac was blinking at the mistletoe like he was possibly questioning his sanity or perhaps if he was actually awake yet. The Sheriff understood the feeling and he picked up the mistletoe with his thumb and forefinger and brought it over to the dish rack so it could dry out.

Ten minutes later Stiles joined them again, dressed this time, and he grabbed a granola bar and a banana as everyone searched for their backpacks, shoes, and jackets.

"Are we still expecting the whole pack for dinner tonight?" The Sheriff asked, glancing at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall while he gathered up his own belongings.

"That's the plan. Pot roast, six o'clock sharp," Stiles said around a mouthful of granola.

The Sheriff nodded and quickly thought over his schedule for the day. Barring any unforeseen complications at work that should fit into his schedule just fine. "I'll be there if I can," he told them, not wanting to promise when he couldn't be absolutely sure.

"Awesome," Stiles said and reached for the front door with his hands full, Lydia batting his hands out of the way after a moment and leading everyone out.

"Bye!" the kids called as they left, the girls both smiling at him, Isaac waving awkwardly and ducking his head, and Stiles rushing back in the house to grab his lacrosse stick from where he'd left it in the hallway last night. "Bye dad," Stiles shouted.

"Have a good day. Good luck on your test," he called, and then because they were teenagers and he was the Sheriff he felt compelled to add "Drive safe!"

Thirty minutes later the Sheriff was at his own desk going through everything on his to-do list and organizing the adjusted patrol schedule. Being home for dinner that night wouldn't be a problem if the rest of his day went like this.

*****

The house was dark when the Sheriff pulled into the driveway at 5:54 PM and there were none of the cars that he associated with the pack parked on the street. He went through the front door and hung up his jacket, turning on lights as he made his way to the kitchen. He had expected the usual chaos of the entire pack cramming into the house for dinner, the kids noisily playing and sneaking tastes of various dishes, but instead the kitchen was cold and empty. When he turned on the light the mistletoe was sitting on the dish rack exactly where he'd left it. He pulled out his cellphone and checked his missed calls and text messages, but there was nothing from any of the kids saying they were running late or were moving dinner to the McCall's house.

There hadn't been any major traffic accidents reported that afternoon or evening, and he knew he would have heard if anything big had happened at the school. Just last spring he wouldn't have worried overly much about coming home for dinner and finding an empty house. Stiles had spent most of his time with Scott - though now he knew that at least part of that time had been with the pack as well - and the Sheriff's schedule was inconsistent enough that he hadn't expected Stiles to be home at mealtimes. Now, when he'd grown used to knowing where Stiles was - and where Isaac was, and usually where Erica was as well - it set him on edge to be the only one at home when the kids had planned to be there.

He reminded himself that they were teenagers, that their plans were subject to teenaged whims, and it was possible they'd gotten distracted and decided to do something else for dinner and had forgotten to let him know. With his finger hovering over Stiles' name on his contact list, the Sheriff pressed call and listened as the phone rang and then went to Stiles' voicemail. "Just wanted to know if everyone decided to do something else for dinner, call me when you get this," the Sheriff said and hung up. He was considering texting Stiles as well, because sometimes Stiles was better about answering texts than he was answering phone calls, when he heard the front door open.

The Sheriff stepped out into the hallway, Stiles' name halfway to his lips, when he abruptly jolted into action at the sight of Boyd carrying Danny and blood soaking both of their shirts. His hand was on his holster as he hurried forward to the front door, leaving enough space for Boyd to carry Danny into the living room. "Were you followed?" he asked, bracing himself against the doorframe as he scanned the darkened neighborhood.

"I don't think so," Boyd called from the living room.

"Do we need to get Danny to the emergency room?" the Sheriff asked next, already working out the logistics of how they could load Danny into the car without exposing them to further danger.

"I'm not sure yet, I need the first aid kit," Boyd said, and there was just a hint of panic in his voice.

The Sheriff looked over the neighborhood one last time before closing the door. After a moment of hesitation he left it unlocked, not wanting to lock any of the kids out if something was after them. If that something came in the house, well, the Sheriff had a Glock in his ankle holster loaded with wolfsbane bullets and a serious problem with anything that attacked his kids.

He retrieved the supplemented first aid kid from the bathroom, along with all the towels he could find, and hurried back to the living room. Boyd had set Danny on the floor and was holding him down by one shoulder while he tried to peel Danny's shirt away. The Sheriff knelt down on the other side of Danny, taking in the way Danny was holding his arms against his chest.

"Danny, son, we need to take a look at how bad it is," he said, slipping his hands around Danny's wrists and gently tugging his arms away from his chest. "What was he hit with?" he asked Boyd.

"Claws," Boyd said shortly as he took one of the towels to wipe away the blood from Danny's chest. There were no visible wounds on his chest or abdomen and Boyd paused for a moment and then turned to the tattered remains of Danny's shirt sleeves. "Hold him still while I get these off."

The Sheriff held Danny's hand and kept his other hand reassuringly on Danny's shoulder. "Hang in there. You'll be fine," he said, channeling all the calm that he'd learned both from his time in the Sheriff's Department and from raising Stiles.

Danny's eyes opened and his lips parted as he soundlessly panted. "I'm okay. He was going for my face," he managed to say even as his entire body trembled.

"Okay," the Sheriff agreed, his stomach twisting at seeing Danny trying to stay stoic while he was still losing blood. "You're doing great. Just keep looking at me. There you go."

Boyd was moving swiftly, yet as gently as was possible under the circumstances. He cut away the rest of Danny's sleeves, revealing deep scratches down both Danny's forearms. "These need stitches," he said quietly as he used some gauze to try to stop the worst of the bleeding.

"I'll call Melissa, she's not on shift right now," the Sheriff said, reaching with his mostly clean hand to his pocket for his cellphone.

"No!" Boyd said, one of his hands darting out to stop the Sheriff. He removed his hand from the Sheriff's wrist almost immediately, seeming surprised by his own speed and strength.

"No?" the Sheriff asked, squeezing Danny's hand when Danny shivered noticeably.

Boyd shook his head. "We can't bring her here until we know it's safe; they'll go after the humans first, especially if there isn't a wolf with them. Either we wait, or we take Danny to the hospital and I'll keep both of you safe. Those are my orders."

The Sheriff stared, not certain if he wanted to ask if those orders were from Derek or Stiles. He also didn't want to think about Boyd keeping him, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, safe. "What's out there?" he finally asked.

"Another pack," Boyd said, looking down and adjusting his grip on the gauze.

"I dropped my blade," Danny said, tipping his head back to look at Boyd. "Deaton is going to kill me."

Boyd shook his head. "Don't worry about it. The others will be here soon."

The Sheriff didn't need werewolf lie detection skills so see that Boyd was hoping this was true as he looked to the door. "How many?" he asked, his heart rate picking up at the thought of the kids out there fighting a more experienced pack. A pack of adults. A pack of born werewolves. A pack without humans.

Boyd shook his head again. "Couldn't get a good look. More than we thought. The others will be here soon. Derek and Stiles will bring them," he said as he looked toward the window and then closed his eyes. He was listening to everything surrounding the house, the Sheriff realized. Boyd reached for the Sheriff's hand again and placed it on the gauze around Danny's forearm. "Keep pressure on this. There is a jar of Mountain Ash in the bottom of the first aid kit, use it to make a circle around yourself and Danny if you hear anything suspicious. Shoot only if you have a kill shot, don't waste bullets."

With his hand tight on the gauze, years with the Sheriff's Department honing his first aid skills, the Sheriff watched as Boyd quickly strode away. He wanted to call out, tell Boyd to stay out of harm's way while he went to investigate whatever it was that Boyd had heard, but he couldn't leave Danny now either. Danny's hand squeezing on his brought his attention back to the more immediate situation.

"I have a rune-etched dagger in a sheath at my ankle, if you need it," Danny said, his gaze locking onto the Sheriff's. "Won't do a lot, but it will make a werewolf back off for long enough to pull your gun."

The Sheriff stared, mostly shocked at the utter grim sincerity in Danny's voice. This wasn't information that had been passed on, a lesson spoken; this was something Danny had learned from experience. "I'll keep you safe," he promised, adjusting the way he was kneeling so that had a better angle on the doorway.

The familiar sound of the backdoor creaking as it swung all the way open made both of them tense and they waited in frozen silence for the attack to come. Footsteps in the hallway came quickly and the Sheriff dropped Danny's hand and pulled his wolfsbane loaded Glock from his ankle holster and aimed at the doorway. His finger was resting on the trigger and it was only the fact that he was in his own home that gave him that second's pause that allowed him to refrain from shooting Derek.

Derek was just as bloody as Boyd had been and he waited until the Sheriff pointed the weapon at the floor before moving quickly to Danny's side. "We chased them out of our territory. Scott and Allison are bringing Scott's mom here just in case she was needed. Everyone else is on their way in," Derek said, though it was difficult to tell if he was speaking to Danny or to the Sheriff.

"Everyone's okay?" Danny asked.

Derek reached down and touched his hand to Danny's shoulder. "Yeah, you took the worst of it. Everyone else is already healing. Let me look," he said, this time glancing to the Sheriff with a grim expression.

The Sheriff took his hand from the gauze and found a towel to wipe his own hands on while Derek examined the scratches.

"These aren't deep enough to turn you," he said finally after he examined the wounds. "We need to wash them with a emulsion of Mountain Ash before they're closed up. Can you stand?"

Danny managed to sit, his face going pale under the smears of blood. "Maybe with help," he said with a grimace.

Before the Sheriff could move in to help, Erica and Isaac came into the room and rushed to Danny's side. "Stiles is already setting up the bathroom," Erica said, wiping blood from her own forehead onto her torn pants. Isaac and Erica carefully eased Danny to his feet and helped him from the room, Derek following with a deep frown.

The Sheriff sighed and cleaned up the living room, leaving the first aid kit and everything Melissa might need in order to suture Danny's wounds, and then he went to the kitchen to wash up. Jackson was slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, Lydia at his side as she wiped blood from gashes across his chest and shoulder.

Jackson growled, his eyes flashing, but Lydia only shook her head. "If you're going to step in front of an Alpha, then you have to live with the consequences," she said as she set aside the bloody cloth and examined the wounds more closely.

"See if I step in between you and an Alpha again," Jackson muttered, though his eyes faded back to normal.

"I didn't need you to help. I had her just fine, as I think you saw," Lydia said crisply, her gaze moving to the pair of blood soaked blades on the kitchen table. "There, you're already starting to close up."

The Sheriff took a glance at the blades, the flat of each blade having some kind of runes etched into the metal that almost seemed to repel the blood that was dripping from the surface. He decided that now was not the time to ask, maybe there was never a time when he was going to ask, and he went to the sink to wash his hands.

Boyd came in the back door a minute later and shrugged out of his bloody jacket and pulled aside his torn shirt to check on the still-healing wounds that were torn across his chest and stomach.

Looking around his kitchen, everyone in sight covered in blood and the sound of whimpers and voices coming from the nearby bathroom, the Sheriff reeled slightly at how a simple December night pot roast had turned into the aftermath of a battle. "How bad is it?" he asked Boyd quietly.

Boyd looked up, his eyes distant before he focused on the Sheriff. "Almost done healing. Won't even be a mark after an hour or so," he said, somewhere in between numb and resigned.

The front door opened and the Sheriff hurried to the hallway, figuring that most of the werewolves in the house were too distracted to notice an intruder. He found Allison and Scott in the entryway with Melissa.

"How many? Anything life threatening?" Melissa asked as she shrugged out of her coat and took her own first aid kit from Scott's hands.

"Just Danny as far as I know. Still bleeding but not critical," the Sheriff said, looking back as Erica and Isaac brought Danny from the bathroom. "I'd offer my kitchen, but right now it's occupied with bleeding werewolves."

Melissa shook her head as she looked at Danny's arms. "Living room is fine, let's get this taken care of." She followed Danny, Erica, and Isaac into the living room and the Sheriff was immediately grateful for her presence as she directed everyone into place.

Stiles stepped out of the bathroom a moment later and leaned against the wall. His arms had smudges of blood on his skin, his shirt sleeves damp, and he pushed away from the wall almost immediately to pull a semi-automatic pistol from a holster at the small of his back and unloaded the ammo with the ease that came from familiarity. When he saw his dad watching, Stiles shook his head and shrugged. "So, that happened," he said with an unhappy twist of a smile.

The Sheriff rubbed at his eyes. "You could have called me," he finally offered.

Stiles continued to shake his head. "By the time you'd have reached us it would have been over. We were investigating a breach of the territory, thought it was an Omega, and then ambushed out of nowhere. Don't even know where they're from."

"LA," Derek said as he stepped into the hallway. "I recognized the Alpha. She wasn't Alpha of their pack when I knew her, but that's the LA Pack. They're probably looking to expand their territory and thought we looked easy."

"They'll be back," Stiles said. It wasn't a question but Derek nodded.

"Not right away. They'll take time to regroup since we caught them off-guard. But they'll be back," Derek said, glancing in the direction of the living room. "I'm going to take Scott and Boyd and do a couple of loops. We'll check in on thirty minute intervals, Erica and Isaac will be listening for a howl if we need immediate backup."

Stiles only nodded once before Derek took off through the kitchen, leaving Stiles, Allison, and the Sheriff standing in the hallway.

Allison hung up Melissa's coat and stroked the curve of her crossbow absently. "I need to call my dad and let him know there's another pack interested in Beacon Hills."

Stiles walked over to her. "Don't tell him where they're from, just that there's another pack. We don't need Hunters from LA coming up here," he said, his voice pitched soft even as his gaze flickered to his dad.

"I know," Allison said, her fingers intermingling with Stiles' before she walked up the stairs.

Stiles watched her go and then looked to his dad. "I'm going to check on Jackson and renew our blades," he said, nodding as he re-holstered his pistol and then walked into the kitchen with quick, sure steps.

The Sheriff stood still for a long moment, listening to the quiet sounds from around the house, and marveled at how quickly his houseful of playful teens turned into a house of battle-ready soldiers. It wasn't a transformation he liked to see, far from it, but he wondered if it wasn't better than them being helpless and unprepared when the battle came to them. He stepped into the doorway of the living room and looked over everyone gathered there.

Melissa's quick hands had already finished on Danny's arms, both of his forearms wrapped wrist to elbow in white bandages. Isaac had one of his hands on Danny's bare collarbone and he was trembling with his eyes closed and his skin pale and sickly except for where both of his forearms were bright red.

Before the Sheriff could ask what was happening, Erica reached over and tugged on Isaac's wrist. "No more, let him rest," she said.

"I can take more," Isaac said, not moving his hand or opening his eyes.

Danny reached up with one of his hands and gently pushed Isaac away. "I'm good. Any more and I'm going to fall asleep," he said. His voice had a detached quality but was still much better than he had sounded only thirty minutes prior.

Isaac gasped as he sunk down onto the couch next to Danny, tipping his head back onto the cushions, and Erica pressed against Isaac's side and took his hand into hers.

Melissa gathered the small tray she'd placed her needles and tools on and walked from the living room into the bathroom, glancing back when the Sheriff followed her. "He was taking Danny's pain so I could do the sutures without administering a local sedative," she explained without the Sheriff having to ask. "Apparently he and Scott hang out at the animal clinic and practice on Deaton's patients."

The Sheriff smiled tightly at her tone of disbelief.

"They're all alive, that's what matters. Right?" she asked, looking up from where she'd peeled off her gloves and had started vigorously washing her hands.

It took a minute but the Sheriff nodded. "Sometimes that's all we can ask for."


	9. Winter Formal & Secret Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 should be posted on the 24th. Thank you for your patience!

When the Sheriff stepped in the front door late in the afternoon one of the last things he had expected to hear was his son and Derek arguing in the living room. Argument may have been too strong of a word, particularly since Stiles was doing most of the talking, but the Sheriff knew well what his son sounded like when he'd been upset by something. The Sheriff went about his business, removing his gloves and jacket, and going into his office to unarm himself and set aside the files he'd brought home with him. By the time he returned to the doorway of the living room Stiles had segued into superhero comparisons, which was never a good sign.

"Look, if it makes you feel better you can come be Spiderman and lurk in the rafters of the gym and wait for danger to strike," Stiles said, pacing restlessly from the Christmas tree to the windows and back. "I mean, you're not really a Spiderman type, more like Batman, but you can't have Batman because I'm Batman. I'd say Wolverine, but he didn't really lurk from high places."

"No," Derek said flatly, his arms folded.

Stiles sighed. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think we can sneak you in as a high school student. It's not that you're too tall, because frankly Danny and Isaac are taller than you, but it's probably the facial hair," he said, motioning around his face while raising his eyebrows at Derek.

Derek stared in disbelief.

"But, if you want to try it, we can rearrange. You can go with Lydia instead of me, and I'll go with Isaac or something," Stiles offered.

"That's not the point. It's not safe. What if they try something while you're all trapped in the school?" Derek asked, and the Sheriff saw a glimpse of the worry and fear that Derek was trying to keep concealed.

"First, it's not like we haven't been trapped in the school while being chased by werewolves before," Stiles said, grimacing when Derek looked less than impressed. "Second, we're going to be surrounded by most of the school, people who don't know anything about werewolves. There's no way the LA Pack would attack, it would be a death sentence for them. Allison said that the Hunters will have some of their number stationed around the area of the school, because unfortunately they know that most of the pack goes to the high school."

Derek moved from where he'd been leaning against the wall and peered out the window. "That's not helping your case," he said, tension radiating from his taut neck and shoulders.

The Sheriff was about to step in and try to defuse the situation, maybe offer to chaperone the dance even though he'd already sent two of his deputies over to the high school for the night, when Stiles went to Derek and put his hand on Derek's forearm. "I get that you're worried. Believe me, we're all freaking out about this. Jackson won't let Danny out of his sight, Scott and Allison keep looking at each other like they're about to reenact _Romeo and Juliet_ , and Lydia's been channeling her nerves by going on the cleaning spree from hell," Stiles said, pausing to press his lips tight. "But, this is something we all want to do, even if we spend most of the night worrying about being attacked by Hunters or the LA Pack or some threat we haven't even thought of yet. We need to do this."

Derek didn't say anything but it was clear to both Stiles and the Sheriff that he'd given in by the way his shoulders sagged when he met Stiles' gaze.

"It's not going to be like last year," Stiles promised. "We're all armed, we're operating on the buddy system, and we'll be back by ten to do Secret Santa stuff. You and my dad are just a howl away and everything is going to be fine."

If Stiles could make everything fine just through sheer willpower the Sheriff didn't doubt that he would do so and have extra willpower to spare.

Derek shook his head. "Go finish getting ready, Scott, Boyd, and the girls are supposed to be here in fifteen minutes."

Stiles tightened his hand on Derek's arm, smiling before he stepped away. "Hey, dad. Tell Derek how fast you can get to the high school from the house with your lights and sirens on," he said as he hurried up the steps, his untucked and unbuttoned shirt flapping behind him.

The Sheriff stepped into the living room and looked to where Derek was checking his phone and then looking out the window again. Derek glanced back to him and seemed distinctly uncomfortable, and the Sheriff couldn't help but think of when he'd questioned Derek a little over a year ago regarding the death of Laura Hale. At the time Derek had been quiet, but clearly on edge and he'd looked ready to snap at any second. Seeing Derek now, he had that same edge of being constantly on alert for danger, but he also had that tremble of near exhaustion. If the Sheriff had to guess he'd say that Derek had been waiting for bad things to happen, probably ever since the fire at the Hale House, and he hadn't been disappointed if this last year was any indication. Still, and the Sheriff knew from experience, there became a point where being that afraid and _hunted_ all the time just lead into a complete cessation of functioning and Derek had received a hard shove towards that precipice with the threat from the LA Pack.

"Stiles is right," the Sheriff said as he joined Derek at the windows. "They'll be okay tonight. I have deputies posted at the school and we'll be there at the first sign of trouble. There's no way the LA Pack would attack the school directly, not with the Hunter presence in Beacon Hills."

"Tonight," Derek said after a long moment. "Tonight, and maybe tomorrow, and the next night. But what about after that? The LA Pack won't attack the Argent house, which will protect Allison, but Jackson can't stay with Danny forever. Erica's been tagging along with Lydia when they're not here, and Isaac helps guard you and Stiles. But, really, if their entire pack came, a single beta wolf and an armed human isn't much of a defense."

The Sheriff considered this, a rush of fear washing over him. "It won't be forever. We'll take care of the situation, sooner rather than later. All of us together. You're not doing this alone."

Derek shook his head. "Not alone, but they're stronger than us. They expected an easy fight, which is why we were able to drive them back. Next time we won't have that advantage."

"Then we'll find another advantage," the Sheriff insisted. "Or we'll do something other than attack. Because if you think I'm going to sit back and let someone hurt my kids - your pack - well, that's not going to happen. Not ever. Understand?"

Derek nodded, his attention fully on the Sheriff for the first time in a long while. His lips parted and he seemed on the verge of saying something important when a thump from upstairs drew their attention. They both glanced to the ceiling and then to each other with expressions that communicated a combination of mild concern and exaggerated resignation.

"You'd tell me if they were dismembering each other up there or something, right?" the Sheriff asked when a second thump followed the first.

"Yeah," Derek said unconvincingly as he bobbed his head from side to side.

"I suppose I should go take a look," the Sheriff said and he found himself patting Derek on the shoulder when as we walked by, like Derek was any other person he knew and not an Alpha werewolf. He shook his head as he went upstairs and paused in the doorway of Stiles' bedroom, raising his eyebrows at the sight of Stiles with his head tipped back as Jackson retied Stiles' tie.

"Quit squawking. If you're going to the dance with my girlfriend you're going to look good," Jackson said as he finished with the tie and smoothed the shoulders of Stiles' jacket.

"You can still go with your girlfriend. I don't need you to go with me," Danny said from where he was sprawled on Stiles' bed with most of his attention on his phone. "I can find my own dates you know."

Jackson scowled. "I know, but not with that pack out there. You're going with our pack, and that means you're going with me. Up, let me help you with your jacket."

"And I can dress myself, unlike some people," Danny said, though he swung his legs off the bed and stood.

Jackson didn't even respond, his focus on buttoning the cuffs of Danny's shirt and gently adjusting the fabric over the bulky bandages. "Okay, just hold you arms out and we can slide this right over."

"Stiles, do you know-" Isaac cut himself off abruptly as he came out of the pack bedroom with his suit jacket open and a tie in his hands.

Stiles leaned past his dad into the hallway. "Yeah, come in here."

"Don't even touch it," Jackson called, and then started muttering something about how did he even know these people.

The Sheriff stood back far enough that Isaac could slip into Stiles' room, and Jackson nabbed Isaac as soon as he'd finished settling Danny's suit jacket.

"You're going with Lydia?" the Sheriff asked Stiles as they watched Jackson help Isaac with his tie.

"Hmm?" Stiles asked, and then nodded. "Yes, because Jackson insisted on going with Danny and then insisted I go with her because he didn't want anyone outside of the pack near us. He's getting as paranoid as Derek."

"I heard that," Jackson said.

The Sheriff eyed the way the fabric at Stiles' left ankle bunched slightly and he didn't have to make much of an intuitive leap to know that Stiles' had an ankle sheath there. "Try not to get caught with weapons at the school. I don't want to have to book any of you tonight," he said. He wasn't about to ask them to go unarmed, not when he knew of the threats waiting for them, but he couldn't help but worry what it would look like if Stiles and his friends were discovered armed to the teeth.

"Most of our heavy duty stuff is going to stay in the cars and we, uh, enhanced our vehicles to allow for the concealment of supernatural related weapons," Danny said, touching his forearms through his jacket and wincing slightly.

"Our arsenal would make the Winchester brothers jealous," Stiles said, sounding a little bit smug before turning to the Sheriff with a look of alarm. "In a good way?"

"Uh huh," the Sheriff said, reminding himself that it was a good thing his kids could handle weapons. It had to be a good thing because otherwise he was going to have one of those silent panics that he tried to confine to when he was alone at night.

"They're here," Isaac said, both he and Jackson standing straight and then tipping their heads towards the front of the house in unison.

Jackson popped over to the mirror one last time and nodded. "Let's do this," he said, and then offered his arm to Danny.

Danny rolled his eyes but accepted Jackson's arm and the Sheriff stepped back and watched Isaac and Stiles follow them out, Stiles shrugging his shoulder in a check that the Sheriff was all too familiar with and he was glad the suit jacket wasn't showing the outline of the holster Stiles was wearing.

He followed them back downstairs, watching everyone greet each other and exclaim over their clothing like they hadn't seen each other for weeks instead of hours. After a moment he slipped into his office and dug out the camera from his bottom desk drawer, slightly amazed that the batteries were still good.

"Pictures, before you go," he called, getting several moans as he directed them in the living room over to the Christmas tree. "Come on, I see you guys dressed up about twice a year."

After a few minutes they managed to assemble themselves in some sort of order. Danny, Jackson, Lydia, and Stiles all grouped together, smiling brightly even though the Sheriff could see that Lydia in particular was nervous and was gripping Stiles' hand. Scott and Allison stood next to Stiles, Scott's arm wrapped around Allison's waist and Allison leaning back into Scott's shoulder. Isaac was next, Erica holding both his and Boyd's hands while she stood in front of them and she was grinning particularly brightly.

The Sheriff felt a strange sense of wonder and contentment wash over him as Derek moved to stand next to him, both of them looking over the kids. It was amazing how grown up they all seemed, in their suits and dresses, and yet so young at the same time. "Alright, on the count of three," he called.

"Wait! Werewolves close your eyes," Allison called. "With all of you there won't be any picture at all."

The Sheriff waited while the werewolves obligingly shut their eyes, and then counted down and took the picture. He waited for the camera to display the picture and chuckled at the slightly odd result. "Alright, now pose however you want, but stay in frame," he said, holding up the camera for a second shot. There was a lot of giggling and laughter as they all rearranged themselves; Scott and Allison now kissing, Lydia and Erica displaying their dresses, Isaac and Danny making a point of showing off their height by crowding around Jackson, and Stiles 'assisting' Boyd to give Scott and Isaac bunny ears.

"We'll be back around ten, we all have our cellphones," Stiles called as they all bundled out the door. "Call us if you need us!"

"Have fun," the Sheriff called back, shooing Stiles on his way when he hesitated for a moment longer. He joined Derek at the window and watched as the kids organized themselves into cars and drove away.

He stepped away from the window when they could no longer be seen and then paused, wondering if Derek was planning on standing by the window for the next three hours until everyone returned. "There's a game on, want a beer?" he offered, forcing himself not to smile when Derek jolted ever so slightly with surprise.

"Uh, sure," Derek said.

When he and Derek were both settled in armchairs, each with a bottle of beer as they half-watched one of the nearby college teams lose miserably to their rivals, the Sheriff counted it as a success - even though Derek had his cellphone in one hand and checked it every three minutes. The Sheriff didn't have any stones to throw, his cellphone was resting on his thigh and he found himself glancing every few minutes to make sure a message hadn't come in that he hadn't seen.

*****

Fifteen minutes past ten, just when Derek had moved beyond shifting restlessly to pacing in front of the window - the Sheriff considering joining him - the telltale sound of Stiles' jeep came from down the street. The Sheriff pocketed his phone and finished removing the evidence that they'd snacked on a variety of salty and unhealthy things they'd found tucked in the back of kitchen cupboards and by the time he came back into the hallway the kids were all inside chattering about the dance. The Sheriff couldn't quite fail to notice the way that Derek touched each member of the pack as if checking they were actually there and were alright. He also couldn't help but notice the way each of the kids leaned into the touch and smiled at Derek.

"We're going to go change," Erica said as she darted for the stairs, Allison and Lydia following. Stiles, Scott and Isaac chose to simply shed their suit jackets right there in the front hallway, about to dump them on the side table when Jackson intercepted them with a short growl.

"We'll be back in a few minutes," Stiles said with a roll of his eyes. "Don't go anywhere! Presents!"

The Sheriff shook his head and returned to the living room to reclaim his seat before the chaos started. Ten minutes later everyone had gathered in the living room, the kids all dressed down and most of them barefoot. He restrained his urge to make them go back upstairs for socks and smiled when Stiles stationed himself directly next to the Christmas tree for best access to the presents.

"Okay. Just remember, no extra senses are to be used when determining who gave you your gift. That means I shouldn't see noses anywhere near wrapping paper," Stiles said. He made a show of covering his his eyes with one hand and reaching under the tree to pick a present. "Erica!"

Erica reached out to take the package from Stiles and shook it dramatically before kneeling next to the tree and tearing into the paper. She squealed with delight a moment later and held up a cookbook and an apron. The apron was very clearly hand decorated and had the silhouette of a wolf in the center. Except the wolf was a cookie, and it was howling. "It's the best!" she exclaimed, and then looked around the group with suspicious eyes, pausing on Stiles for a minute before turning to Boyd and half-leaping on him.

Boyd grinned and pressed his forehead to hers. "How'd you know?"

Erica grinned back. "How could I not?"

"I call cheating," Stiles said, getting shouts of agreement from Danny and Lydia while everyone else just laughed. He reached back under the tree and pulled out another present. "Scott, get over here."

Scott wiggled far enough forward to grab the present without dislodging Allison from his side. He didn't bother trying to guess what it was, tearing into the paper with enthusiasm and grinning brightly at the pair of lacrosse gloves. "Sweet! My other ones still have holes in them from my claws."

"We know!" about half the room chorused before they laughed.

"And, I guess...Danny?" Scott asked.

Danny shook his head and then subtly pointed to Jackson, though everyone except Jackson saw and started laughing.

"Thanks," Scott said to Jackson as he shoved his hands in the gloves.

"See, Scott plays by the rules," Stiles said as he reached for another present. "Boyd!"

The Sheriff shifted so that he could watch as Boyd opened the gift, Boyd blinking in clear surprise as he examined his gift.

"It's guitar strings and a notebook that has lines for lyrics and for music composition," Boyd explained when everyone clamored to know what it was. "Erica?"

Erica grinned but shook her head.

Boyd looked around the room, the Sheriff doing his best to smile serenely as he had with the other kids while they were opening their gifts, but Boyd paused on him for a long moment. "Thank you," he said as he met the Sheriff's eyes.

The Sheriff nodded. "You're welcome."

"New rule, you can't listen to heartbeats either, though that actually follows under the old rule of no cheating," Stiles said as he reached for another package, but he raised his eyebrows at his dad. "Oh, uh. Me!"

Stiles examined the wrapping paper carefully, obviously looking for a clue as to who had given him the gift, and then finally opened it. "Oh, sweet!" he exclaimed as he opened the envelope that had been wrapped. "It's a certificate to have my jeep detailed and tuned up. She'll love it!"

 _'She'?_ several members of the pack mouthed, but they all looked amused.

"Guess," Lydia called, when Stiles sat for a moment to consider all of them carefully.

"Derek," Stiles said finally. "Because he's the only one here both practical enough, and who knows how much I love my jeep. Though, you should all know that by now."

Everyone turned to Derek expectantly, and Derek smiled and waved his hand, actually looking rather pleased.

Stiles tucked the certificate away and reached back under the tree. "Isaac," he said, passing the present over since Isaac was sitting next to him.

Isaac examined the present, tracing his finger over his name written on the front of the bulky package, and then carefully opened it and lifted out a blue hoodie. He ran his fingers over the fabric and smiled. "I have no idea," he said, not looking up from the gift. "Uh, one of the girls. Or maybe Jackson."

Everyone laughed but Lydia waved her hand from the couch. "It's made from bamboo fabric, which means it will stay soft and won't absorb any odors from washing detergent or anything," she said.

Isaac buried his face in the fabric and then immediately pulled it on over his t-shirt. "Thank you," he said, smiling brightly at her. Lydia quickly looked away but she was smiling as well.

"Danny," Stiles called and passed over Danny's gift toward the couch.

Danny opened it and pulled out what looked like a USB drive that was already out of its package and examined it for a moment before his eyes went wide. He looked around the room and then focused on Stiles. "Seriously?"

Stiles grinned. "Yep. But you don't know where you got it and you don't have it."

The Sheriff resisted the urge to cringe because that couldn't mean anything good. He figured that any protests that they should try to refrain from illegal activity when possible would be politely ignored and Danny had already pocketed the device and looked like he'd just been handed the entire world.

"Lydia," Stiles called quickly, talking over the speculations of what exactly he had given Danny.

Lydia accepted the box and carefully removed the ribbon before she opened it and pulled out two small bottles. She sniffed at each of them and frowned at the second one. "Allison?"

"Yeah, that one is a wolfsbane spray, I wouldn't use it in here. It has a W on the bottle so you'll know which it is. Who's going to take a bottle of perfume off a girl, right?" Allison asked. "The other one is just perfume though, I think you'll like the scent."

Lydia nodded thoughtfully and reached for her purse. "Sneaky, I approve wholeheartedly."

"This is a plea from all of us that you don't mix those up," Scott said, with nods of agreement from all of the other wolves, including Jackson.

"I won't," Lydia promised. "Not on accident, at least."

No one looked particularly comforted by that, but Stiles dug back under the tree in the dwindling pile of presents. "Oh," he said, and then laughed as he got to his feet. "Sheriff Stilinski," he said as he handed the present to his dad.

The Sheriff looked at the writing and smiled as he turned it over to open it using the tape. He opened the envelope first and was pleasantly surprised to find a gift certificate for the local bookstore where he dropped in from time to time. There was a second gift, this one wrapped as well, and he raised his eyebrows at the kids before he opened it and found a picture frame. Turning it over he found a collage of pictures of the pack, group shots taken at various times. Most of the time the werewolves had their eyes closed or had turned their faces to the side, but some of the photos were edited so the flash of their eyes was only slightly noticeable. He showed the pack what he'd received when they asked and he considered the handful of people who were left in the suspect pool. "Erica?" he finally asked.

She grinned. "Yep. Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," he told her. He stood and walked to the mantle of the fireplace and found a place for the frame near the middle. By the time he returned to his chair she had wiggled over and sat leaning her head near his knees with her legs resting in Boyd's lap.

"Jackson," Stiles called and passed a gift up to the couch.

Jackson opened the flat present, clearly curious, and then paused for a long moment as he considered what he was holding, Lydia and Danny leaning in to look as well.

"What is it?" Erica called finally and Jackson held up a black and white sketch of the ridge in the woods that overlooked the city.

"I have no idea," Jackson said as he brought the drawing back down to look at it more closely. "I didn't know anyone in the pack could draw."

"Uh," Isaac said uncertainly. "I sketched it. I mean, I noticed that when we're out there, you always stop to look, and, I thought you might like having it."

The entire pack looked at Isaac, clearly as surprised as Jackson was by this information. "Thank you," Jackson said, and Isaac nodded before looking down at his lap and playing with the strings of his new hoodie.

"Dude, you have to tell us stuff like this. You too, Boyd," Stiles said, getting a general call of agreement from the pack while Isaac fidgeted uncomfortably and Boyd kept his gaze on where his and Erica's hands were joined.

"Allison," Stiles called after nudging Isaac, and Scott reached forward so that he and Allison didn't have to move from where they were nestled together leaning against the bottom of the couch.

Allison opened the small package and pulled out a small computer chip of some kind. She twisted around to look up at Danny. "What is it?" she asked with a smile.

Danny shifted the way his arms were resting and gave the Sheriff a slightly uncertain glance before focusing on Allison. "It's a sim card for your phone. It will make it so that you can hop networks if you need us and can't get a signal. It will also allow us to remotely activate your phone and access the GPS chip if we need to find you. I've done the same with my phone, so that I'll always have signal so you have someone to reach if you can't get anyone else. Just in case. I'll show you how to use the settings before you leave tonight."

Allison gave Danny a slightly watery smile. "Thank you," she said, and she buried her face against Scott's shoulder for a long moment.

"And Derek," Stiles said when Allison had resurfaced. He pulled the last present from under the tree and brought it over to Derek.

Derek raised his eyebrows but opened the present and stared down at what looked like a fairly thick book that was hardbound. There was no title on the cover and he opened it and flipped through a few pages before he looked up with wide eyes. "Where did you get this?"

Scott leaned over so that he could see Derek better. "This kinda requires an explanation, and that explanation is that I had a lot of help with this. Dr. Deaton said that most packs have their own library of books about things that could help, information they needed, history that's not written down anywhere else. And that most of those books are written in languages that aren't commonly known. So, I thought having translations of some of those books might be a good idea. Lydia and Stiles did the translation, Boyd and Danny too, and we researched book binding and everything. The idea is that eventually we'll be able to have a pack library, but we thought that book in particular should go to you first."

Derek blinked a few times and closed the cover of the book. "Thank you," he said finally, looking around at his pack like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. His fingers were clamped tight around the book and he nodded instead of saying anything more.

"And, I think we're done," Stiles said quickly, clearly getting the idea that a few members of the pack had been slightly unsettled by their gift giving. "Time for food?"

"Yes," Scott and Jackson said immediately as they got to their feet. Everyone started moving around, the kids darting around to talk to each other and offer thanks for their gifts, and they started drifting in and out of the room as they cleaned up the wrapping paper and searched for food.

The Sheriff remained in his chair, watching and listening to the controlled chaos, content to let the sounds of the pack wash over him. Derek hadn't moved from his chair either, though he touched hands with the kids when they came over to him.

An hour later, when they showed no signs of winding down for the night, in part because they were all out of school for the next two weeks, the Sheriff stood and made his way into the kitchen. He decided that he was having a late night snack and then going to bed regardless of how many of the kids were still up partying.

He opened the pantry door, his heart set on the pretzels he knew had been stashed on one of the shelves, and then he cleared his throat politely. Allison and Scott jumped apart and Scott sheepishly pointed up at where the mistletoe was hanging from the air vent.

The Sheriff glanced at his watch and saw that it was well past eleven at night. "Should we be hurrying you home?" he asked.

Allison shook her head. "My dad extended my curfew until one because of the dance," she said, blushing brightly and not meeting the Sheriff's eyes.

"Alright then," the Sheriff said and pointed to the shelf next to Scott's head. "Pass the pretzels. Behave," he told them.

"Yes, Mr. Stilinski," Scott said as he passed the bag of pretzels.

The Sheriff shut the door before shaking his head and walking out of the kitchen. Surely one of the other kids would be rummaging in the kitchen before long and would drag the pair out of the pantry.


	10. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eleven will be set on Christmas Day, but it will likely be posted on the 27th of December. I hope everyone is having a lovely holiday.
> 
> Also, a note regarding Stiles present to Danny (since so many people asked). Hacking tools can come on devices that look like ordinary USB Drives, so what Stiles gave Danny was like a tool of dubious legality, but I think we can be pretty certain that they'll use it for good (mostly). I hope that helps!

The Sheriff had only been home for the past thirty minutes and he was already developing a theory about werewolves and sugar; they didn't mix. Or maybe that was just teenagers and sugar, because the handful of humans racing around his house seemed just as rambunctious and noisy as the wolves. He'd sent them outside after the second time he'd heard thumps and crashing coming from somewhere in the house and now they were in the backyard playing a game that didn't seem to have rules other than tackle someone to the ground.

Occasionally he peered out the window and watched for a minute or two, noticing how alliances shifted easily and no one person remained knocked down for more than thirty seconds. Stiles, Danny, and Lydia were sitting on the back porch, all huddled close together due to the cold wind that had been blowing all day, and they shouted out encouragement and advice. He winced when Derek knocked Boyd to the ground with more force than was probably necessary. Then again, considering that Boyd used the momentum to roll them another few feet and leap back to his feet, maybe not.

"Sorry I'm late," Melissa called as she walked into the kitchen laden with plastic bags. "I got off my shift thirty minutes late and the grocery store was insane. If I thought I could get away with it I would have brought Scott and let him growl to clear the aisles."

The Sheriff took some of the bags from Melissa. "You could have texted me. I could have sent some of the kids out to pick these up," he said as he cleared a place next to where he'd been setting out everything for sandwiches and chips.

Melissa shook her head. "I had a couple of last minute things to pick up anyway. There just aren't enough days this month."

"I hear you," the Sheriff agreed. It felt like the last month had slipped by faster than he could remember. "You're joining us for dinner tomorrow night?"

"That's the plan. Stiles is still picking up Scott sometime in the morning?" she asked, emptying the bags and opening the veggie tray she'd brought. "I can drop him off here if that's easier."

"Don't worry about it. It takes us a while to get moving in the morning," he said as he picked up one of the stacks of chocolate bars. "Are you sure it's wise to give them more sugar?"

Melissa walked by the window and then glanced to the Sheriff. "Wise? No, probably not. But it's Christmas Eve. And if we were wise we wouldn't be feeding nine teenagers."

The Sheriff laughed. "True. Did you want tea while we still have run of the kitchen?"

Melissa sat at the kitchen table and smiled. "Please. That would be a god send."

Five minutes later they were both at the kitchen table, steadfastly ignoring the shouts coming from the backyard as they sipped at their coffee and tea. It was nice, and a little strange, and the Sheriff had an odd feeling that it was somehow familiar; sitting at the kitchen table with his mind planning and scheduling, occasionally glancing and smiling at the person sitting across from him, all the while the shouts of the kids playing in the backyard filtered into his consciousness. It felt easy and right, and at the same time like a kick in the chest that it was so easy to find this place again.

Melissa looked up from her tea at a particularly loud series of shouts from the back yard and shook her head even as she smiled. "At least they're getting it out now, I suppose. Is it bad that this is kind of a relief? That this is our lives now?"

The Sheriff didn't even have to think before he answered. "No. All things considered and as strange as it seems, after everything that happened last year, I think this might have been the best possible outcome. It was never what I was imagining, but..." he trailed off with a shrug.

"But at least we still have our kids," Melissa finished as she set down her cup.

"Exactly," he said, thinking that they had their kids and somehow a half dozen extra as well. He couldn't bring himself to complain though, and he didn't want to even when it meant that his house was almost never quiet anymore.

The backdoor opened and Stiles, Danny, and Lydia came tumbling in with their cheeks red from the cold. "Dinner?" Stiles asked hopefully. Lydia had cupped her hands to her mouth and was blowing on them, and Danny reached over to cover her hands with his own.

"Dinner is when no one is covered in grass and dirt and when someone puts out plates and silverware," the Sheriff said, figuring that would buy them about five minutes.

"Awesome," Stiles said and went to the backdoor and stuck his head outside: "Guys, clean up and we can have dinner!"

"And s'mores!" Scott shouted from somewhere in the backyard.

The Sheriff met Melissa's gaze and they both smiled at the resulting werewolf stampede to the back porch. Lydia and Danny had made their way over into the kitchen and were setting out the requested silverware and plates, Lydia glancing over everyone before she started counting out sets of forks and knives.

The werewolves started to trail in, most of them pulling off their shoes on the back porch, all of them flushed bright and laughing and smiling. A chilly breeze ran through the kitchen and the Sheriff looked over to see if they'd forgotten to shut the back door. Stiles and Isaac were standing in the doorway, Isaac ducking his head slightly while Sties picked dead leaves and grass from Isaac's curls.

"Good as we're going to get, I think," Stiles said after a moment.

Isaac reached up to run his fingers roughly through his hair before looking hopefully at Stiles. "Better?"

Stiles' lips twitched and he reached up again to pluck another piece of grass from near Isaac's ear. "You're good."

Isaac looked doubtful but brushed his shirt off once more before he stepped into the house and pulled the door shut behind him.

Before long the kitchen table was crowded, everyone squeezing close as they brought their plates over. Scott paused by Melissa and set a plate down in front of her. She reached up and squeezed Scott's hand, both of them pausing in the middle of the chaos to be mother and son.

Stiles dropped down in the empty chair next to the Sheriff and pushed a sandwich in his direction. "Thanks," the Sheriff said, and Stiles nodded with his mouth already full of food.

Their early evening dinner was consumed in record time, eager conversation filling the room, and then the kids disappeared in a whirlwind as they bounded towards the living room. Derek trailed behind, running a hand through his hair and glancing back with a look that was a cross between amusement and a plea for rescue from the teenaged insanity that came along with Christmas Eve.

Melissa picked up her empty plate as she moved to the kitchen counter. "I'll go help with the fireplace before Scott and Stiles decide that they should start without us," she said, the amused flicker of her eyebrows adding _'again'_.

"I'll be along with everything else in a minute," he told her as he searched through the cupboards for where they'd stashed the paper plates from last time. Having s'mores in the fireplace on Christmas Eve was a McCall family tradition, one that Stiles had been joining the McCalls in for the past eight or nine years. Usually Stiles went over to the McCall's house and stayed the evening there, but since the Sheriff had taken an early shift at work and Melissa had worked into the evening, he'd suggested that it might be simpler to have everyone at his house instead. He finally found the paper plates stashed in one of the bottom cupboards by the thermoses and gathered everything they needed to make s'mores on a tray before going to join everyone in the living room.

Melissa had started a fire in the fireplace, Scott and Stiles kneeling next to her as they 'helped', while the rest of the kids were either sprawled on the couch or gathered around the Christmas tree. Derek was watching Melissa and the fire closely and the Sheriff was almost certain that Derek was hovering closer to the pack than he usually was.

"Can I help?" Erica asked, pointing at the tray of chocolate bars and graham crackers.

"Yep, you can start snapping them in half," the Sheriff told her, setting the tray down on the coffee table. Boyd reached over to the bag of paper plates and napkins and started passing them out without having to be asked.

"We need sticks!" Stiles said, leaping to his feet.

"In the trunk of my car," Melissa said as she stood up.

"I'll get them," Scott said, and he raced from the room.

Melissa stepped back and joined the Sheriff towards the side of the room. "I almost feel obsolete sometimes, with how much they've grown up," she said as she brushed her hands on her pants.

The Sheriff looked to where Erica had half abandoned her task and had joined Isaac and Stiles in seeing how many marshmallows they could fit in their mouths. "I'm not sure I can agree with you on that," he said. He smiled as Derek reached over to grab a handful of marshmallows as well, not joining their competition but eating them in one go nevertheless. A minute later Scott returned with an armful of thin metal sticks and he speared a bunch of marshmallows, some of those marshmallows winding up in his mouth as well, and he passed out the sticks as people made grabbing motions towards him.

With the couch mostly abandoned the Sheriff motioned Melissa over and they sat and relaxed while watching the kids crowd around the fireplace. Someone had turned on a local radio station playing Christmas music and while there was no snow in sight it still felt cosy and warm in the living room with the light from the fireplace flickering on the walls. "Stiles," the Sheriff called after a while.

Stiles looked over with his mouth full of his second s'more and his hands sticky. "What?" he asked, or at least that's what the Sheriff assumed he'd asked.

"Roast some marshmallows for me and Melissa, please," he asked.

Stiles swallowed and grabbed two of the free sticks. "On it," he said, and this time he could be clearly understood. Lydia joined Stiles with another two sticks and leaned in to whisper in his ear for a moment, Stiles nodding.

A few minutes later the Sheriff, Melissa, and Derek all had s'mores on their plates, and Derek gave Lydia a grateful nod when she handed him the plate without saying a word about him not joining them around the fireplace. The second round of food seemed to wipe the kids out instead of winding them up again and most of them sprawled on the floor talking and playing games on their phones.

"Danny," Melissa called, and Danny turned from where he was sitting between Jackson and Scott. "Before we go I want to look at your arms and see if it's time for your stitches to come out."

Danny nodded and glanced at the time on his phone. "I'm supposed to be home in about thirty minutes for family stuff, do you want to do it now?"

Melissa stood up and waited for Danny to join her before she walked from the room. "They should be ready to come out if everything is healing as it should. How have they been feeling?" she asked as they left.

The Sheriff glanced at Derek and managed to remain seated for about a minute before he stood up and moved under the guise of taking some of the empty plates back to the kitchen. Derek picked up the empty candy bar wrappers and followed, though they both stayed back a little as Melissa examined Danny's arms at the kitchen table.

"Nothing looks swollen or infected," Melissa said as she gently turned Danny's right arm to follow the worst of the wounds. "I have a cream that should reduce the scarring, but these are deep enough that there's going to be visible scarring that won't fade after a few months."

Danny nodded. "I figured as much. At least they'll match the set on my ankle. I can tell people they're body art."

"The tensile strength seems to be good enough to keep the wounds closed without the aid of the stitches, so lets go ahead and remove them before they start pressing into the new scar tissue," Melissa said as she opened her kit and reached for her gloves. "You'll need to keep them covered and use the ointment until they've closed up so you don't get an infection.

Derek walked over and placed his hand on Danny's shoulder, looking down at the wounds with a deep frown. Danny leaned into Derek's touch and shook his head. "It's okay. They don't even really hurt."

Derek's frown deepened but he didn't respond.

The Sheriff stepped closer and got a better look at the gashes. They were still slightly red, the skin puckered, and while they looked a lot better than when Danny had been on the living room floor shaking and bleeding, they were still painful to look at. "How did you explain these to your parents?" he asked.

Danny looked over and then his gaze fell to the ground. "I didn't. I figure by the time it's warm enough to wear short sleeves the scars won't be very noticeable."

The Sheriff nodded and met Melissa's gaze briefly before she turned her attention to carefully clipping the dark threads lining Danny's arms. He didn't have to be told that all of the kids, particularly the humans, had probably hidden wounds from their parents in the past year. After speaking with Allison he knew why it probably wouldn't be wise to inform the rest of the kids' parents, and after hearing from some of the kids exactly how infrequently their parents were around, he understood that it was probably for the best. At the same time he couldn't help but wonder how many times Stiles had snuck in hurt and bleeding and had to bandage himself without letting him know anything about it. He knew it was more times than he wanted to believe and at his core he didn't want any other child, or parent, to have to go through that.

He was about to motion to Derek that they should give Danny and Melissa some privacy but he noticed how Danny was still leaning into Derek's hands and realized that Danny was gaining comfort from the Alpha's presence. The Sheriff slipped away, knowing that Melissa had everything under control, and he went towards the living room with his armchair in mind. He passed Lydia in the hallway, who was carrying the marshmallow sticks, and he could have sworn he saw the mistletoe being held sneakily at her side. Deciding that ignorance was bliss he continued on to his armchair without saying a word.

"I'm staying with Danny for the next few nights," Jackson was saying as he typed something on his phone. "Lydia is with her dad for the rest of the week, and his apartment is like on the fifth level, so I don't think we need to worry about her tonight. We'll pick her up on our way over here in the afternoon as soon as Danny's family is done with stuff."

Scott looked up from his phone with a nod. "Allison says that she and her dad arrived safely in Virginia. She's not happy, but she says the Hunters are keeping things pretty low key at the moment and it could almost be any other really awkward family gathering. I really miss her."

"We know. We do too," Stiles said as he sat next to Scott, his arm around Scott's shoulder. "Boyd, you and Erica are coming over in the afternoon also, right?"

Boyd nodded, tightening his arms around Erica where she was sitting in his lap. "Yep. My house is usually done by noon."

"My dad is coming home tonight," Erica said, and she smiled nervously as she ran her hands over Boyd's arms. "It shouldn't take us that long to eat and do presents and everything. He says we're going out for Christmas lunch, anywhere I want to go."

Boyd held her closer but the Sheriff couldn't miss the way he glanced over to Stiles and Scott with concern in his eyes, and how Stiles and Scott seemed equally doubtful.

"And Isaac and I are here with my dad," Stiles added finally, Isaac looking up briefly from where he was sprawled on the floor next to the tree. "Derek has once again refused to stay over, but other than him, I think that covers everyone."

"I'd try to get him to stay with me, but I think my dad would have something to say if he came home and found Derek there," Erica said with a wry smile.

Stiles shook his head. "At least we don't have to worry about Hunters out in the woods tonight and I sincerely hope the LA Pack realizes that attacking anyone on Christmas Eve is just not on."

The Sheriff blinked as he realized that the kids hadn't just been arranging their schedules, they'd been making sure everyone would be as safe as possible during the night while still being where they needed to be. The LA Pack hadn't resurfaced since the attack a week ago, but he'd been combing through any violence, vandalism, and squatting reports for the past month hoping to come up with names or any ideas of where the foreign pack might be lying in wait. So far he had nothing and he'd found himself hoping that they'd decided the Beacon Hills Pack simply wasn't worth the effort.

"I could go with him," Isaac offered.

"He's not going to let this house not be guarded by a wolf," Boyd said before either the Sheriff or Stiles could object. "Not when it's so clearly a place where the pack gathers."

Danny came back into the living room, still tugging his sleeves down around his fresh bandages. "Melissa says I'm healing fine," he told everyone as soon as he realized he was being stared at.

Jackson just let out a short growl and motioned Danny over to sit with him. Lydia joined them both and Derek and Melissa came back into the living room a moment later. Derek ceded the armchair he usually sat in to Melissa and sat on the couch with Stiles and Scott instead. The Sheriff took a moment to look around and be grateful that they there together, though his mind worried briefly at the missing spot Allison had left behind. He'd grown accustomed to counting to ten when he was looking over the kids and during the past two days his mind had caught endlessly before he remembered who was missing and why. He could understand why Chris Argent had wanted to get out of Beacon Hills for the holidays, but at the same time he very much doubted that had been the best thing to do for Allison.

"Danny, you're going to be late," Lydia said after a while, nudging him with her knee.

Danny sighed. "Yeah, I guess we should get going."

"You too," Jackson pointed out to Lydia as he checked his phone, but he stood and helped Danny to his feet.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "My dad can wait. He's probably late anyway," she said, but she was already standing up.

"We should go too," Melissa said, checking her watch as she motioned to Scott to get up.

"I can drop off Erica and Boyd," Derek offered.

There was a general commotion as the kids swarmed around, gathering their things and saying goodbye.

"The last of the marshmallows are in the kitchen. There's like less than a fourth of the bag left," Lydia said, and the Sheriff chuckled as Scott and Jackson raced off to the kitchen.

"How can they be hungry already?" Danny asked, but the Sheriff saw considering looks on the rest of the wolves' faces as they obviously contemplated the prospect of more food.

"Scott, let's go!" Melissa called when neither Scott nor Jackson returned after a few minutes.

The Sheriff picked up the last of the empty boxes of graham crackers and looked at where Lydia and Danny were also just about ready to go. "I'll go shoo them out here," he said as he handed some of the trash to Stiles. He lead the way into the kitchen, aware that Lydia had tagged along, and a moment later he realized why Scott and Jackson hadn't returned. The mostly empty bag of marshmallows was sitting between them on the counter, but they were ignoring it in favor of staring at each other with folded arms. The mistletoe was hanging directly above them, the marshmallows a perfect bait for the trap.

"Come on Jackson, we've got to go," Lydia said, but she was smirking.

Jackson moved to leave but Stiles bounded forward to block his way. "Nope, mistletoe. Even Derek followed the rules. You two have no excuse."

The Sheriff once again prepared his speech about how no one had to kiss anyone and that mistletoe was not a binding contract.

"Ugh," Scott said, but then his mom called his name from the hallway. "Fine," he muttered and leaned in to kiss Jackson on the cheek. Unfortunately Jackson had leaned in to do just the same and they wound up lips on lips while they kissed for longer than what was strictly necessary.

"Blegh," Jackson said, and then he grabbed the bag of marshmallows and ran from the room.

"Hey!" Scott shouted and a few seconds later he was pelted with a handful of marshmallows. He caught all but one and seemed remarkably happier as he shoved one in his mouth and followed Jackson out into the hall.

"I'd give that a seven out of ten," Stiles said as he retrieved the fallen marshmallow and considered it briefly before eating it.

"A seven?" Lydia asked.

"On the lips," Stiles pointed out.

Lydia shook her head. "Your standards are pathetically low. I give it a four, but only because I'd expected Jackson to steal the marshmallows and run without a kiss at all."

"Lydia!" Jackson shouted. "Let's go!"

Lydia shrugged and leaned in to kiss Stiles on the cheek. "Merry Christmas Eve, I'll see you tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve, Mr. Stilinski."

"Merry Christmas Eve," the Sheriff told Lydia when Stiles just gaped at her as she left.

They went back out into the hallway to say goodbye to everyone and watching as they drove away, leaving just the Sheriff, Stiles, and Isaac in the hallway when the front door was finally shut.

"Sandwiches?" Stiles asked Isaac. Isaac nodded enthusiastically and they both bounded back into the kitchen.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes and went upstairs to finish his last minute Christmas present wrapping. He had figured that Stiles was too busy this year to go snooping around the house for presents, but he'd decided that he was better off not taking any chances, particularly since he wasn't entirely sure Stiles would be above using Isaac like one of the Sheriff Department's drug dogs in order to sniff out hidden gifts. It was an hour or so later when he was finished and had packed everything back up to be brought downstairs tomorrow morning, and he went back downstairs with the intention of locking up the house and suggesting that the boys head to bed with a joke about Santa not coming while they're awake.

He heard quiet voices coming from the living room and he peered inside to see Stiles and Isaac gathered in front of the remains of the fire. Stiles had a blanket pulled around his shoulders, Isaac had one around his waist from where it had slipped down his back, and they were both leaning in so that they were only a few inches apart as they talked.

"One Christmas Eve, me and Cam tried to stay up and wait for Santa, and I don't think Cam even believed anymore, but I didn't know that at the time. And my mom stayed out on the couch with us and I remember falling asleep against her side, and Cam had fallen asleep before me. And she whispered in my ear that if I closed my eyes then Santa would be there sooner," Isaac said, one of his hands coming up to brush through his hair, his eyes focused on the fire.

Stiles made a soft noise and set his hand on Isaac's knee. "Yeah. My mom, every year on Christmas Eve she'd read _The Night Before Christmas_ to me, even when I was old enough that I could read it myself. And even when I was too excited to sleep she'd sit with me until I finally drifted off. One year, this was a long time ago, we were doing a Christmas pageant at school," Stiles said, and there was a small smile on his lips even as his voice wavered slightly.

The Sheriff leaned against the doorframe as he listened to the rest of Stiles' story, remembering Stiles and Scott as shepherds racing around in their costumes and poking everything in sight with their shepherd's crooks and his wife having been volunteered to help with the pageant for the third grade. He slipped away after a while. It had been a long time since he'd heard Stiles speak of his mother and seeing the boys sitting together and talking about their missing family members had left him with a familiar ache in his chest. He finished tidying up the kitchen, though the boys had already taken care of most of it, and by the time he was done checking the doors and windows he heard their footsteps on the stairs.

The fire was almost out in the fireplace and he poked the remaining wood until it was gone completely. The blankets had been left in a pile and he tossed them onto the couch and unplugged the Christmas tree before he went upstairs and poked his head in Stiles' bedroom.

"Goodnight dad, Merry Christmas," Stiles said, sitting on the edge of his bed in his pajamas, his phone in his hands as he texted someone.

"Goodnight son," the Sheriff said. He paused for a moment then walked over to Stiles bed and sat next to him. He put his arm around Stiles' shoulders and pulled him in for a quick hug. "Merry Christmas."

They stayed like that for a minute or two, leaning together quietly, and then Stiles phone chirped with a new message. "Allison says Merry Christmas, because it's after midnight where she is. She says she'll slip away and call tomorrow afternoon so she can say hi to everyone."

"Sounds good. Tell her Merry Christmas from me," the Sheriff said, and watched as Stiles typed out the message.

Stiles set aside his phone and glanced to his window. "It sounds like everyone is settled for the night."

"Good," the Sheriff said and squeezed Stiles' shoulder one more time. "Tomorrow morning?"

Stiles nodded. "Isaac wants to come too, is that alright?"

"Of course," the Sheriff said as he stood. He pulled Stiles' bedroom door most of the way closed and a few seconds later the lamp from inside his room clicked off. The Sheriff paused by the pack bedroom doorway and peered in to find Isaac sitting in bed with his sketchbook on his lap and a pencil in his hand. "Goodnight Isaac, Merry Christmas."

Isaac looked up and smiled a little hesitantly. "Goodnight Mr. Stilinski, Merry Christmas." He closed his book and slipped it between the wall and edge of his mattress and his light was out before the Sheriff even stepped away from the doorway.

The Sheriff went into his own bedroom and was vaguely surprised when he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillow. He supposed it had something to do with chasing after werewolves and teenagers - which were not mutually exclusive categories - for the past month.


	11. Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I anticipate having chapter 12 up by Monday, January 21st. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season.

By the time the Sheriff was up, dressed, and downstairs - his body awake and in the process of getting ready for the day before his mind caught up enough to remember the date - Stiles and Isaac were already up and waiting in the living room. Stiles had his cellphone out, Isaac crowded against his shoulder to watch whatever it was Stiles was doing, and the Sheriff noticed that they were both dressed a little nicer than typical for them. Stiles was in beige pants that actually fit and the sweater Melissa had given him last Christmas, while Isaac was dressed in dark gray slacks and a collared shirt that was an inch or so short at his wrists. They both looked a little too solemn - and in Stiles' case twitchy - for Christmas morning, but the Sheriff was used to Stiles being oddly quiet until their Christmas morning ritual was out of the way.

"Are you just about ready?" the Sheriff asked, the boys looking up in unison.

"Yep," Stiles said as he shoved his cellphone in his pocket, Isaac standing a half step behind him.

"Jackets," the Sheriff reminded them when they went to the door without stopping at the front closet, and he only raised an eyebrow when the pair exchanged put upon glances before they grabbed their jackets. It was fifty degrees outside and as far as the Sheriff was concerned that was jacket weather.

They piled into the Sheriff's patrol car, Isaac and Stiles both climbing in the back, and the drive across town to the cemetery only took ten minutes in the near non-existent traffic. The Sheriff scanned the area as soon as they stepped out of the car. He didn't typically wear his holster when they came to the cemetery, his wife had never been anything but supportive of his career though it felt wrong nevertheless, but at this point he felt safer armed when he was in open spaces - particularly spaces that bordered the woods. With the lack of activity from the LA Pack the Sheriff thought they'd likely returned to their own territory for the rest of the holidays, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

The trio stepped onto the cemetery proper and when they reached a fork in the path Isaac glanced at the Sheriff before looking down. "I'm going to, uh," Isaac said, waving a hand toward the eastern section of the cemetery.

"Of course," the Sheriff said, watching for a moment as Isaac hurried down what was clearly a familiar path. Stiles turned to down the path leading further to the north, the Sheriff a half step behind him, and after walking for three minutes they stopped next to a very familiar headstone.

He hadn't meant to turn this into a ritual, not at all, but the first Christmas after his wife had passed on neither of them had been particularly functional. The hole in their family had been too big to work around, too fresh to put aside for more than a few minutes, and he'd finally asked Stiles if he wanted to go to the cemetery for a little while. Stiles had agreed readily, a surprise at the time since Stiles had avoided the cemetery after having a panic attack there two months earlier, and they'd visited for fifteen minutes without mishap. The next year the Sheriff had found Stiles waiting for him and when Stiles had asked if they were going, the Sheriff hadn't the heart to say no.

Stiles knelt, brushing a bit of long grass away from the headstone before running his hands over the top of the cold granite. His fingers briefly passed over her name, ending on the date of her death, and then he pushed back to his feet and rejoined his father at the base of the grave. "I think she'd be okay with this, don't you?" Stiles asked.

The Sheriff looked at his son, thinking that only a year ago he'd had to look down a little and now they were almost on eye level with each other. "With the pack?" he asked, wanting to make sure.

"Yeah," Stiles nodded. "I think she would have liked them. She'd have doted on Isaac, and she'd think that Erica is hilarious. I bet she'd love Allison and be really happy for her and Scott. She'd talk to Boyd about poetry and music, and she totally wouldn't be afraid to tell off Derek when he's being all stubborn."

"I think you're right," the Sheriff said around a lump in his throat. This was a conversation he and Stiles never could have had a year ago, and not just because he hadn't known the pack in order to speak about them. Last year, and the years before, Stiles hadn't said anything as they stood in the cemetery. He put his hand on Stiles' shoulder and swallowed hard before he spoke again. "She'd be so very proud of you. Just like I am."

Stiles didn't respond to that but he leaned into his father's touch, and the Sheriff could feel that Stiles' breaths were slightly quick and uneven. The Sheriff nodded to the place of his wife's resting place, a silent acknowledgement that he was doing the best he knew how and that he'd do whatever he could to take care of their family. When he couldn't quite bear to keep his gaze on her headstone any longer he looked out across the cemetery and saw someone winding smoothly through the graves. It took him a moment to identify Derek, coming from the Hale plot at the south eastern corner of the cemetery, and he followed Derek's intended path to where Isaac was standing alone in front of a small grouping of graves. Isaac's head was bowed, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved in his pockets, and he didn't look up until Derek came to a stop by his side. With almost half of the pack gathered in the cemetery early on Christmas morning the Sheriff couldn't help but wonder if they would have been bumping into the Argents as well if Chris hadn't taken Allison out of town.

A buzzing noise caught both of them by surprise - Stiles visibly jumped - and a moment later Stiles pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and checked the screen. "Erica," he murmured with a frown before he quickly answered and brought his phone to his ear.

The Sheriff frowned as well, a dozen possibilities coming to mind of what could have happened, and he listened to Stiles' half of the conversation while watching as Derek and Isaac hurried across the cemetery to join them.

"We'll be right there. It will be about fifteen minutes, okay?" Stiles asked, shaking his head when Derek held out his hand for the phone.

Derek raised his eyebrows, his expression darkening, while Isaac only folded his arms and tipped his head slightly in the direction of Stiles' phone.

"Okay, we're on our way," Stiles said, hanging up and putting the phone in his pocket with an aggrieved look at Derek. "Surprise, Erica's dad is a no-show. Can we swing by and pick her up before we pick up Scott, or can you drop me at home so I can go get her in my jeep?"

No one looked particularly surprised that Erica's dad hadn't shown up, and the Sheriff didn't miss the very quiet growl that came from Isaac. "We can pick her up now, if everyone is done here?" the Sheriff checked.

Isaac nodded quickly and Stiles moved toward the parking lot after a glance at Derek, everyone trailing behind. The Sheriff hadn't expected Derek to join them on the ride back but he wasn't about to object either. It made things easier, especially since they wouldn't have to wonder if Derek was going to show up at all that day. He opened the back door of the car for Derek and Isaac, his mind catching slightly on the fact that he'd had both boys back there for far less pleasant reasons before, and a minute later they were off while Stiles read directions to Erica's house from the GPS in his phone.

The drive was mostly quiet, Stiles texting on his phone with his jaw set, and when the Sheriff glanced in his rearview mirror he saw Derek and Isaac looking grim and just a little dangerous. Most of the time when he was around the pack he saw them devouring whatever they might find in the kitchen or playing around in the living room; it was still a little unnerving to see the transition from teenagers to potential weapons, and even more unsettling when they didn't even need to have their claws and fangs out to do so.

"Turn on Maple, third house on the left," Stiles said, restlessly fidgeting with his phone while he leaned forward to get a better look out the window.

The Sheriff slowed and turned, his frown deepening when he saw Erica sitting on the front steps of the third house on the left, her backpack slung over one shoulder and her phone clutched tightly in her hands. She stood as soon as she saw the car and bounced on her toes, not waiting until he came to a stop in the road before she came racing down to meet them. Isaac opened the door and got out, letting Erica slide over to the middle of the seat before he climbed back in.

"Seat belts," the Sheriff called as he pulled away from the curb. The kids shuffled around in the back and he made a U-turn to get back to the main road.

"Did he at least call?" Stiles asked as he twisted around in his seat.

"No," Erica said, her voice slightly muffled. "He texted, said some important business came up at the last minute and he couldn't make it. I bet whoever he's with doesn't know he has a kid. Or a wife."

The Sheriff gritted his teeth as he peered in the rearview mirror. Erica had her face pressed against Derek's shoulder and her hand was clinging to Isaac's in a death grip.

"Mom thought he was going to be there, and she wanted to work the holiday because they pay her extra, so she won't be back until Sunday," Erica continued. "She called from the Chicago airport, wished me Merry Christmas and told me that I could find my presents in her closet."

Derek made a low noise, but it was Isaac who finally spoke. "At least we're together. They might have kept you from us if they were here."

"Yeah," Erica said, regaining control of her voice. "I'd rather be with all of you anyway."

"Hey," Stiles said, checking his phone again and then looking to his dad. "Scott said he's going on foot through the woods and he bets he can beat us home. Want to step on the gas and prove him wrong?"

"No, I most certainly don't," the Sheriff said, giving Stiles a pointed look before returning his attention to the road. He might have sped up ever so slightly, but only because he knew it would lighten the mood a little. They were pulling in the driveway when Scott came tumbling out of the backyard with leaves in his hair and a triumphant grin.

"Doesn't count, dude!" Stiles shouted as soon as he was out of the car.

Scott laughed, his face brightly flushed as he threw his arms around Stiles. "I totally beat you. Admit it."

The two continued to rough house and verbally spar as everyone else piled out of the car and the Sheriff took a moment to put his hand on Erica's shoulder. She leaned in for a quick hug before they all went inside, everyone shedding their jackets in the hallway.

"So, breakfast first or presents first?" the Sheriff asked while he still had everyone in one place. He very nearly chuckled at the torn expressions on their faces and after a long moment of collective indecision he decided to save them from themselves. "How about this: we'll put cinnamon rolls in the oven and by the time they're ready to eat we should be done with presents."

"Yes!" Stiles called, seconded by the other kids pretty much immediately.

"Go get the boxes from my bedroom and bring them downstairs, without peeking into any of the presents, I will know if you do," the Sheriff said, Stiles and Scott racing up the stairs without waiting for any further instructions. "Isaac and Erica, why don't you two help me with the dough. Derek, you're on hot cocoa duty."

Derek raised his eyebrows but followed the group into the kitchen without complaint and went straight for the cupboard with the mugs without needing further directions. With Erica and Isaac's help - Isaac was surprisingly handy in the kitchen though the Sheriff had only ever seen him helping out when the other kids were cooking - he had three pans of cinnamon rolls in almost no time. He covered them so they could rise, informing the room at large that bread dough didn't taste good raw so that no one would try to sneak any before the pans went into the oven. Derek finished with the last of the cocoa and by then Stiles and Scott had resurfaced.

"Presents now?" Scott asked, and the Sheriff decided that becoming a werewolf had only enhanced Scott's natural puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, presents now," the Sheriff said, setting a timer on the cinnamon rolls and following the kids into the living room. Scott and Stiles had already placed all the presents around the base of the tree and turned on the lights, and the Sheriff settled himself into his chair with his cup of cocoa and vowed to put on a pot of coffee when he went back to the kitchen to put the rolls in the oven. "The three envelopes first," he instructed.

Stiles dug around under the tree until he found the envelopes. He passed one to Scott, one to Isaac, and kept the third. "Money?" Stiles asked as he opened it and pulled out a gift card.

"Mhmm. From me and Melissa, for a very specific purpose. The three of you need new clothes that fit and haven't been shredded by claws or stained by God knows what," the Sheriff said, ignoring the slight groans from Stiles and Scott. "Melissa and I expect to see the outcome. I'm sure the pack would be very happy to help you shop."

Erica smiled. "We will. You have no idea."

The Sheriff thought he had some idea, but he and Melissa had collectively decided that this was the best way to get their boys into some new clothes without having to actually drag them to the mall.

"Better than getting socks," Scott pointed out as he examined the gift card before pulling out his wallet to put it away.

"But it's something you could buy socks with," Stiles said, pulling a face as he put aside his envelope on the couch arm.

"But I need new socks," Scott said, and Isaac nodded from where he was sitting and the Sheriff caught Derek rolling his eyes.

"I'm sure you'll all get what you need. Now, for the communal gift there is a group of boxes in green wrapping paper. Pass them out," the Sheriff instructed as he took another sip of his cocoa and watched the kids reach over each other to eagerly shake - and sniff - the presents. "Go ahead," he said when everyone had one of the boxes.

"Sweet!" Stiles shouted as he held up a controller for the Xbox 360, Erica leaning over to show him the game she'd unwrapped. All in all they now had enough controllers to keep everyone occupied plus three more multiplayer games.

Scott looked up from the game he was holding with a grin. "You know what this means?"

"Game marathons for the rest of winter break!" Stiles said and there was a complicated mess of the teenagers giving each other high fives while Derek examined the back of one of the game cases with interest. "Thanks dad!" Stiles called, a chorus of agreement rising from the others.

The Sheriff wasn't the slightest bit surprised that the video games were better received than the news that they needed to get new clothes, and he smiled as he watch the kids launch into discussions about the different games and about strategies and plots, the conversation moving so fast that it almost sounded like a language he was familiar with but not quite fluent in. Hearing the kitchen timer beep he excused himself from the room long enough to put the cinnamon rolls in the oven and set another timer. He took another few minutes to set up the coffee maker, patting it fondly when the familiar aroma reached him. By the time he returned to the living room Stiles was standing and had an envelope in his hands and held it in the Sheriff's direction. "What's this?" the Sheriff asked as he turned the blank envelope over in his hands.

"From all of us, the whole pack," Stiles said with a bit of a nervous smile.

He glanced at where everyone, including Derek, was looking up at him expectantly and then moved over to sit back down in his chair. The contents of the envelope was a series of pages printed from the computer and it took him reading the last one before he understood what they'd given him. "Should I be concerned that you're trying to send me out of town?" he asked, but he was smiling.

"No!" Stiles exclaimed. Scott, Isaac, and Erica all started to giggle and before long Stiles was smiling too. "We just thought it might be nice for you to get away from all of this, and you haven't taken an actual vacation in forever, and I already checked with the Sheriff's Department and scheduled your days off, and the ticket for the LA Kings vs the Anaheim Ducks is bought. No excuses not to go!"

The Sheriff thought the fact that he'd be leaving his town unguarded when he was the only person in the department who knew about werewolves was a pretty big reason not to go, but he also appreciated the thought. And the fact that it was the best ticket he could have imagined receiving. "I'll put it on my calendar," he told them. "Thank you."

"There's one other thing from all of us," Stiles said, and then he nudged Derek's shin.

Derek stood and handed over an oddly shaped present with a bow on it. "Stiles insisted that it had to be wrapped," he said, sounding mystified.

The Sheriff unwrapped the gift and then eased the dagger out of its sheath. He recognized it as being very similar to the one Danny had been wearing the night the LA Pack had attacked, and as being a smaller variant of the rune etched short swords that had been set out on the kitchen table that same night.

"It's more from Dr. Deaton than it is from us, but we all thought it was a good idea for you to have one just in case," Erica explained.

"The runes act as a type of werewolf repellant, we think it might actually be where the werewolves are allergic to silver myth could have started," Stiles added as he knelt back down next to Isaac and the Christmas tree. "The metal of the blade doesn't matter so much, it's the runes are the important part - they make the inflicted wounds heal slower and the dagger can potentially kill if it's used right. We were going to go with one of the short swords like we have, but we figured a dagger might be easier for you to conceal than a sword. If you want a sword we can arrange to get you one of those too, it will just take a little while because the etching has to be done by hand. That's why Deaton gets all pissy when we lose one in a fight."

"Right," the Sheriff said as he examined the runes closer before sheathing the dagger. It was a thoughtful gift, practical and useful, but a little frightening to receive nevertheless. "Thank you."

Isaac perked up suddenly, his eyes locking on the front windows. "Jackson's car just turned off the main road," he said, pausing for a minute before adding. "He's got everyone else with him; they must have picked up Boyd on the way."

The Sheriff glanced to Derek and raised his eyebrows as the kids scrambled to their feet to go meet the rest of the pack like they hadn't just seen everyone the night before. Derek gave a one shouldered shrug, as if to say 'what can you do?' and stood as well. The Sheriff motioned Derek to go with him to the kitchen and checked on the cinnamon rolls while he considered what he wanted to say. "They're all very attached to each other," he finally observed after pulling out the pans and setting them on oven mitts to cool.

Derek had already started to pull out the ingredients for the frosting and he didn't look up as he measured out the sugar into a bowl. "They're pack," he said. When the Sheriff handed him a spoon to stir with, his expression indicating that he wanted a little more information than that, Derek sighed and stepped over to the oven. "Under most circumstances packs live and travel together. It's, instinctual, to sleep near your pack and they're doing what they can to mitigate their circumstances during the day."

The Sheriff was tempted to point out that as far as he was aware Derek didn't typically sleep near his pack, but thought better of it for the moment. "So you're saying that this is normal behavior?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that," Derek said, and the Sheriff could have sworn he saw the corner of Derek's mouth twitch. "It's just not unexpected."

"I see," the Sheriff said, which he thought he somewhat did. Before he could press further the rest of the pack came tumbling into the kitchen, all of them eagerly eyeing the pans of cinnamon rolls. "The frosting is almost finished, be ready with plates and forks."

The kids scrambled around in the small space and when Derek set the bowl of frosting next to the pans there was a small content smile on his face as he observed his pack. The Sheriff shook his head at how natural it had become to think of the kids as a pack, even if in his mind it was still closer to a pack of teenagers than a pack of werewolves, and he supervised the pans of cinnamon rolls to make sure everyone had some before anyone took seconds. When he had four left over he looked around and realized he was missing Erica and Boyd, Derek seemingly coming to the same realization.

"I'll get them, you go eat," the Sheriff said as he set aside his plate on the counter. He poked his head out into the hallway but didn't have to go far before he saw Erica and Boyd on the stairs under the mistletoe. Erica was standing on the step above Boyd, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and Boyd was holding her delicately, one of his hands smoothing her hair.

The Sheriff cleared his throat and waited until they looked in his direction - Boyd a little sheepish but Erica was clearly trying not to smile. "Breakfast is ready, I'd come eat soon before someone takes the fact that there is still food in the pans as an invitation," the Sheriff said before he turned and went back into the kitchen. When Erica and Boyd didn't come in for another few minutes he didn't worry about it too much; he was mostly just happy to see that Erica was in better spirits than she had been earlier.

When it seemed like everyone was almost finished eating he went upstairs to get a box from the linen closet, one he'd purposefully left hidden because he knew the urge to peek would prove too much for Stiles. He brought it downstairs into the living room and organized the stockings on the floor in front of the fireplace and then called the kids back in. "I'm assuming you want to finish unwrapping presents," he said, smiling at the eager nods from Stiles and Scott and the surprised expressions from most of the rest of the pack. "Come get your stockings and open them up."

There was a few minutes of chaos as everyone scrambled around to find the stocking that had a label with their name on it, Derek looking shocked and a little confused when Stiles placed one in his hands as well. The stockings were mostly filled with odds and ends; candy, an orange, and other small useful or fun things. He saw several of the kids using their phones as cameras to take pictures of each other and decided that he was going to ask for copies of the pictures from Lydia and Danny later on.

"There's a few more presents under the tree," he told them, settling back in his chair with a fresh cup of coffee and watching with a sense of contentment as they passed out the last of the gifts. He and Melissa had gone shopping during the week and picked out two or three things for each of the pack members, using their combined knowledge and a few subtle questions to figure out what everyone wanted or needed. There were books, a handful of hats, gloves, and scarfs, and some gift cards for music and downloads when it seemed like the most reasonable option.

"Thank you!" Erica called, her new hat on her head while she examined the book she'd been given. The rest of the pack called out their own gratitude and the Sheriff took the moment to look around the room.

Derek was on the couch holding his own gifts, his stocking sitting next to him, and he looked rather uncertain. Jackson and Danny were also on the couch, Danny trying on his new gloves while Jackson dug into the candy from his stocking. Lydia and Erica were on the floor next to the couch, Lydia showing off the skirt she was wearing with a bright smile while Erica opened the package of hair clips that had been in her stocking. Boyd and Isaac were sitting next to the tree, Isaac looking a little overwhelmed while he stroked the soft throw blanket he'd been given. Boyd seemed a little uneasy as well, the Sheriff had seen before how Boyd withdrew when he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, but Boyd shifted slightly so that his knee was resting against Isaac's leg and Isaac seemed to hunch his shoulders a little less. Stiles and Scott were kneeling by the other armchair where the video game stuff had been set out of the way, deep in conversation about what they wanted to play first.

All in all it was the most chaotic Christmas morning he'd seen in years, but also one of the best in recent memory. It did him a lot of good to see that Stiles was genuinely happy, or that Stiles could at least set aside the worries about what might be waiting for them in the future to relax and enjoy the holiday. He cradled his coffee mug and watched as the pack playfully bickered about how they wanted to spend the rest of the day before it was time for dinner, feeling some odd tension in his chest release as he let the sounds of general contentment wash over him.

*****

A few hours later the Sheriff looked up from the mystery novel he was reading - as with pretty much everything he read these days his general thoughts included 'this could use more werewolves' - when he heard the sound of the front door open and close. About half the pack had disappeared upstairs to play with their new games and the rest were hanging out in the living room doing whatever it was they did when they were all gathered together, and as far as he was aware everyone had planned on staying for the early evening meal. He set his book down on the kitchen counter, planning on investigating, when Melissa came into the kitchen still in her jacket as she carried in a number of bags.

"I've got it," he said as he stepped forward to take the bulging bag of pies that was slipping from her grasp.

"Thanks," she said as she set all the other bags on the counter. "I'm just glad you're hosting dinner here because I would not have been ready to have a dozen people in my house today."

The Sheriff chuckled. "You're imagining things if you think I am. Though I did have Lydia and Derek to help me with preparing the ham and the turkey. It's gotten to the point where I almost think I need another refrigerator."

Melissa grinned. "See, and I thought that when I just had one teenaged boy. I'll be right back, the ice cream needs to get into the freezer," she called, unbuttoning her jacket as she left the kitchen.

The Sheriff found the bag with the ice cream and after a minute or two of playing food-Tetris he managed to squeeze the cartons inside and still be able to close the door when he was done.

"Merry Christmas," Melissa told him when she returned, extending a package in his direction.

"And Merry Christmas to you," he told her, taking a square package he'd set aside earlier and handing it to her.

Melissa quirked her eyebrow as she looked over the package. "You didn't?"

"Only if you did," the Sheriff said as he felt his gift, already with a good idea of what was inside. When Melissa started to open hers, the Sheriff did the same. He felt his eyebrows rise as he took in the bottle of Merlot she had given him and he was glad he'd gone with the gourmet chocolates that he knew she liked.

"I'm not sure whether to thank you or to file a complaint," Melissa said, but she was smiling as she looked down at the box.

"I'll just go with thank you and then put this somewhere the kids aren't going to find it. I suggest you do the same because I know for a fact that they tend to sniff out any food they can find," the Sheriff said. He set the bottle aside when the thermometer in the turkey beeped and he went to the stove to peer inside. "Another twenty minutes or so should do it, don't you think?"

Melissa walked over and looked inside at the turkey and checked the thermometer. "Looks good. Smells good too."

The Sheriff stood, suddenly aware that Melissa was right next to him, and he felt himself smile awkwardly when Melissa met his gaze. They'd been spending more time together lately in their efforts to keep their kids safe and he realized that it was the most time he'd spent with another adult outside of his co-workers in seven years. That probably said something about his life, but between his work and trying to be there for Stiles, he just never found the time for meeting other people. Before now he hadn't even wanted to, but Melissa had kind of snuck up on him.

She seemed to guess what he was thinking because she dropped her gaze and stepped away to open one of the bags of bread rolls. "Did everything go smoothly today?" she asked, accepting the serving bowl that he pushed in her direction.

"For the most part," the Sheriff said with a quick flicker of his eyes to where most of the werewolves were gathered upstairs. He didn't think it was likely that they were listening, but he couldn't discount the possibility either. "Erica's father sent a message saying he couldn't make it today, so we picked her up this morning. A few of them have been a little unsettled, but that's about what I expected."

Melissa nodded, obviously understanding who the Sheriff was talking about without needing any further clarification. "Well, everyone is with us now," she said after a moment, her eyes saying everything she wanted to about the situation without letting any eavesdropping werewolves know.

He smiled as he checked on the vegetables. "Interestingly enough, that's almost exactly what Isaac said."

Before Melissa could respond they heard what sounded like several people hurrying down the stairs. They both looked at each other, caught between a parental duty to check that everyone was alright and the desire not to know what had happened this time. Duty won out and they made their way to look out into the hall. The pack had gathered into the small space, crowded around where Lydia was holding a cellphone to her ear.

"Allison's on the phone," Stiles explained from where he was leaning over the stairway banister.

The Sheriff checked his watch and while he was relieved Allison had called he was also a little bit worried. It was later than he'd expected her call, particularly since she was currently two hours ahead of them on the east coast. A few days ago he'd seen a flight search page on Stiles' laptop, and he'd known that Stiles was trying to find out how quickly they could get to Allison if something happened. He also knew that if something happened, whatever that indefinable something might be when it came to werewolves and Hunters, that a six hour flight plus whatever wait time before a flight departed would likely be too long. That wouldn't stop them from trying and he'd be right there with them.

"I'm putting you on speakerphone," Lydia told Allison, holding up the phone so that everyone would be able to hear.

"Hi," Allison said, her voice crackling with static.

The pack burst into greetings and questions, all talking over each other until they undoubtably sounded like just garbled noise to Allison. The Sheriff brought his fingers to his lips and let out a short whistle. "One at a time," he told them as the werewolves brought their hands down from where they'd covered their ears at the sharp noise.

"How are you?" Danny asked before anyone else could speak.

"I'm okay," Allison said, and even with the poor phone reception the sadness in her voice came through loud and clear. "Sorry I couldn't call earlier, I had to wait until everyone was gathered around the game on tv to slip away. I probably have about ten minutes before someone comes looking for me."

The Sheriff exchanged a glance with Melissa, not missing the slight pull of her mouth, nor the obvious worry from most of the pack.

"We're keeping up the tree until you get back. You have a stocking and some presents waiting for you," Erica called from where she was standing in Boyd's embrace.

"I'm looking forward to being back," Allison said, the reception cutting out for a brief moment. "We're flying back into Beacon Hills on New Years."

"Are you safe?" Derek asked, setting his hand on Isaac's shoulder when most of the pack looked to Derek.

"Yes. Most of the clan is here, but things have been pretty low key." Allison paused and then added, "I miss all of you."

The pack started speaking over each other again in their haste to let Allison know that they missed her too and that they were worried. Melissa and the Sheriff waited until the speaker phone was turned off and the phone was being quickly handed around the pack, both of them assuring Allison that she could call them if she needed help, and then they went back into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on dinner.

"Allison is a good kid, but that family of hers," Melissa said as she started to vigorously whisk the gravy.

The Sheriff nodded, the phone call having done little to reassure him that Allison was safe. Scott and Stiles had reluctantly told them a little about when Scott was hunted by Chris Argent himself and how Victoria Argent had attempted to murder Scott using wolfsbane. Stiles had explained about Chris threatening him and Jackson, and about how the Argents were responsible for sending the impostor deputy that had tried to kill Isaac when Isaac had been in the custody of the Sheriff's Department. That wasn't even taking into consideration the comments he'd heard about the Hunters harassing and attempting to kill Derek. To say that he didn't trust Chris Argent was an understatement, he imagined Melissa felt even more strongly about the situation, and there was an endless worry turning in the back of the Sheriff's mind of what a man who had already tried to kill more than one teenager was truly capable of and what danger Allison might be in - either from her father or from the other Hunters.

"What's left to do?" Stiles asked, entering the kitchen with Isaac and Lydia right behind him.

After a glance around the kitchen the Sheriff nodded toward the table. "You can set the table and start bringing over some of the serving platters. I think we'll need to leave the turkey and the ham on the counters, but everything else should fit," he said. The thermometer on the oven beeped again and by the time he had the turkey out and ready to be carved almost everyone was in the kitchen or getting settled at the table.

"Bring over your plates and let us know which you want," Melissa called to the kids and in no time at all they'd served everyone, Scott slipping into the kitchen at the last minute and stopping to give his mom a long hug before he collected his plate and squeezed in between Isaac and Boyd at the table.

The Sheriff collected his own plate after serving Melissa and they went to the head of the table where everything was a tight fit but at least they had some elbow room. The first half of the meal was mostly requests for food to be passed across the table, someone popping up every few minutes or so to get a new drink or get something that had been left behind in the kitchen, and the Sheriff found himself smiling fondly as the kids talked about the games they'd been playing or about what they wanted to do for their last week off of school. He met Derek's eyes from across the table and saw him nodding thoughtfully at something Jackson was saying, and although he couldn't be sure, he thought Derek seemed a little more at ease than he'd seen him so far this month. There was something relieving about the holiday season starting to come to a close and from Melissa's tired smile he would guess that she felt the same.

"Dessert soon?" Stiles asked as they started to clear dinner plates away from the table, the kids taking to the task while the Sheriff and Melissa remained seated.

A few people groaned in response but most of the werewolves perked up at the promise of more food. "Pie and ice cream, just leave some for those of us without supernatural stomachs," Melissa said, rolling her eyes when she glanced at the Sheriff but still smiling as the teens crowded over by the counter to look at the pies.

The Sheriff grinned back, shaking his head a little. "I don't know where they put it," he told her ruefully. They both laughed, more than the situation warranted, but he thought that was alright; after all, it was Christmas.

*****

"I have my cellphone, and if you really need to reach me you can call through dispatch," the Sheriff said as he settled his jacket and checked his radio and holster one last time. "If you can't reach me, Melissa isn't on call tonight so you should be able to find her at her home with Scott."

"We know," Stiles said, leaning against the banister. "Don't worry about us. We're just going to stay up all night playing video games and we'll probably raid the kitchen around three in the morning."

The Sheriff raised his eyebrows at Stiles, glancing briefly to where Isaac and Erica standing near the stairs before refocusing his attention on his son.

"Kidding," Stiles said, and then added. "Mostly kidding. We'll probably stay up for a while, but we'll let you know if anything pack related comes up."

The Sheriff nodded because that was about as good as he was going to get. "Alright, try to go to bed at a reasonable time." He was just turning to the front door when he was stopped by Isaac's voice.

"Mr. Stilinski?" Isaac asked, his voice a little uncertain. "I wanted to say thank you, for everything. Not just Christmas, but for letting me stay here with you, and, and everything. You didn't have to, but you did anyway."

The Sheriff suppressed a sigh and set his hand on Isaac's shoulder. "You're pack, and you're one of mine now. No thanks are necessary for that."

Isaac smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching up briefly, and though he quickly looked away, he didn't pull away from the Sheriff's hand either.

"Thank you for having all of us here," Erica added, coming up and wrapping one of her arms around the Sheriff and the other around Isaac. "Stiles, get over here."

"What is this, a group hug?" Stiles asked, but he shuffled over and stepped into his dad's open arm and rested his hand on Isaac's forearm. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," the Sheriff said, Isaac and Erica echoing him in one voice. It took him a moment to untangle himself from the hug and he felt a twinge of guilt at leaving the house and hearing Stiles lock the door behind him. He reminded himself that at least Stiles wasn't alone tonight and by the time he started his car and was on the way towards works he found himself settling automatically into his night patrol routine.

"Sheriff Stilinski, we have a possible 211 on 3rd and Main," the radio said with a crackle.

He frowned in the direction of the radio as he mapped the address in his mind. "A robbery at the bank?" he asked to himself, putting together the code with the location. "Responding to a possible 211 at the Beacon Hills Central Bank," he responded, adjusting his route. It seemed like he wasn't going to have a quiet Christmas night after all.


	12. New Years Eve

It was early afternoon when the Sheriff came home, running his hand over his face and sitting in the driver's seat of his parked car for a few minutes while he collected himself. He'd come to the rather uncomfortable discovery in the past few days that werewolves could use their enhanced senses to pick out emotional states. It wasn't much different than what the Sheriff did when he was questioning suspects and witnesses, using body language and word choice to determine if they were lying or to see when they were frightened or angry. With the werewolves, as it had been explained to him by Stiles and Derek, it more involved scent and listening for changes in a heart rate - for Derek it happened automatically, but the younger werewolves were still learning and thus were hit and miss when they were drawing their conclusions. If Scott hadn't asked him why he was so worried recently, and the Sheriff asking in turn how Scott knew that, he might not have known about their abilities until it was too late to do anything about it. Knowing that now, he'd been trying to clear his thoughts of any cases he was working on before he went home if he knew the kids were there. It didn't take care of everything he was worried about, not by a long shot, but it helped.

The bank robbery on Christmas night had become yet another one of those unsolvable cases that had been plaguing the town for the past year. Of course, once he'd known about werewolves those cases had become far more solvable. If he hadn't already been suspicious about this case being supernaturally involved in some way or another, arriving at the crime scene would have set off all of his internal alerts. The scene itself was clean - they hadn't found any forensic evidence that didn't belong to a bank employee, the security cameras had been turned off, the bank vault had been opened without setting off any alarms and without any evidence of being forced, and the money that had been taken was exactly five million dollars - leaving stacks of bills still on the shelves and the deposit boxes untouched.

The only reason the Sheriff's Department had been alerted to the robbery was because a door alarm had been set off as the robber had left, and the Sheriff was almost positive that had been intentional. Why exactly, he could only guess. No one would have noticed the missing money until the following morning, which would have given the robber eight hours to make a clean getaway. He was considering the possibility that it was a way of communicating with them - either the robber wanted them to see the pristine crime scene before it could be tampered with, or wanted to show them how easy it was to get away even when the Sheriff had called in all of his deputies to search the county. The state police had already come and gone, sending their expert on bank robberies, but other than being irritatingly impressed, the expert had been just as stumped as everyone else.

The Sheriff had sat down with the pack last night and asked them for their thoughts on how their abilities might assist them if they were to rob a bank - after he'd firmly insisted that none of them were to ever rob a bank unless extenuating circumstances made it absolutely necessary - and he'd gotten a crash course in werewolf abilities beyond their basic strength and speed. While they had a lot of ideas about how a werewolf pack might be able to rob a bank with similar results to the current robbery, and many plans that would likely work, there were always details that didn't match the crime scene. In the end it had been Boyd who had pointed out that even if it was a pack or other supernatural creature robbing the bank, they would have to have very specialized knowledge as well as specific knowledge about the codes and layout of that bank. Derek had added that it wasn't likely a werewolf pack, a pair of omegas possibly, but that the robbery itself didn't fall into the skill sets that came naturally to werewolves.

The fact that it was a precise amount of money that had been taken worried the Sheriff more than a little. A supernatural creature or group with a plan that required five million dollars, well, he couldn't come up with many scenarios that didn't end in death or destruction of some kind. With the LA Pack still lurking in the woods, two violent skirmishes taking place in the past week, he was concerned that it was somehow connected. He didn't have anything to indicate that they were related, he still hadn't discovered where the LA Pack was staying if they were remaining near Beacon Hills in between the times the pack had encountered them, but their presence was one he couldn't ignore. Particularly since the Alpha of the LA Pack had almost killed Boyd and Boyd had been unconscious for nearly twelve hours while Dr. Deaton and Melissa worked to keep him alive. That had been the day after Christmas and the Sheriff still hadn't quite forgiven himself for not being there. The Sheriff sighed and got out of his car; he hadn't exactly succeeded in worrying less, but he could hear a pickup game of lacrosse in the backyard and figured he had a little while before any of the werewolves would think to use their senses on him.

After changing from his uniform into the worn jeans he lounged in on his days off, he went downstairs into the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to discover a turkey, bacon, and avocado sandwich wrapped up in the refrigerator with his name on it. Amazingly there had been some left-overs from Christmas - it seemed even a pack of werewolves had limits in what they could consume all at once - and someone had been thoughtful enough to use the very last of the turkey to make him a sandwich. He opened the sandwich while he was standing at the counter and started to eat while waiting for the coffee to finish. From his vantage point he could see most of the lacrosse game happening in his back yard.

Danny was guarding the sole goal, a piece of string tied up between two trees delineating the area, though he mostly seemed to be calling encouragement to the scramble of players in the yard. Scott had the ball in his net and was racing away from the goal, Isaac and Boyd hot on his heels, while Stiles moved into position to receive if Scott could get a clear shot. It was a good strategy; Stiles was close enough to the goal that he would be able to beat the werewolves there and over the summer, before he'd known about werewolves, he'd seen plenty of Scott and Stiles practicing this exact play. Derek was standing near the back of the yard, not wearing lacrosse gear, and his attention seemed divided between the tree line and the lacrosse game. The Sheriff was strongly reminded of a parent letting his children out to play in the park and then keeping careful watch over them. The LA Pack hadn't yet attacked near the Sheriff's house, but the latest skirmish - the one that had knocked Lydia unconscious and left Jackson and Erica bleeding for hours - had happened on the edge of the woods near Lydia's house and the ruins of the Hale house. The LA Pack was getting bolder and while so far there hadn't been any murders, the Sheriff thought it was only a matter of time before civilians got caught in the crossfire.

Derek looked up and directly at the window, and the Sheriff realized that his hand was clenched and he'd forgotten his sandwich halfway through. A whoop from Stiles caught their attention and the Sheriff watched as Stiles received the ball that had finally been sent across the yard and raced towards the goal. Isaac and Boyd had already abandoned their pursuit of Scott and ran with speed that was very obviously superhuman. Stiles had clearly been anticipating this because he sent the ball hurtling into the goal from further away than he should have been, and seconds later Isaac and Boyd were on him. The Sheriff winced at the tackle, but he also saw how Isaac wrapped his arms around Stiles to prevent him from going down hard and how Boyd braced himself to receive the brunt of the collision.

"Did I make the shot?" Stiles called from where he and Isaac were sprawled on the ground.

"You know this goal is almost twice as big as the one on the field," Danny called, coming back from retrieving the ball from the edge of the fence.

"That means yes!" Stiles shouted and punched his gloved first in the air. "That means we're even!"

"Boyd and Isaac are still ahead by two," Jackson's voice called.

The Sheriff collected his cup of coffee and moved to the back door so he could see the full yard. Erica was curled up in one of the rickety chairs on the porch, watching the pack as she absently ran her fingers through her hair. Lydia was sitting on the edge of the porch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a book in her lap. The book was closed, as were her eyes, and she was leaning against Jackson's chest. She'd been tired ever since the latest attack and while Melissa had said the concussion had been extremely mild, that this wasn't an unusual side effect. Erica and Jackson had both been lagging behind the others a little and while he was glad the gapping wounds had healed without a trace and that they were both recovering, he had still spent the first twenty minutes of his shift last night sitting in his office shaking while he thought of how those wounds could have easily been worse. How easily it could have been something they couldn't have healed from, or how it could have been one of the humans torn open with claws and teeth. 

The Sheriff had just taken the first sip of his coffee, carefully avoiding burning his mouth, when all of the werewolves looked up in unison and stared out at the woods. The humans looked a half second later and then they all began to move with the speed and efficiency of firefighters responding to an alarm. Stepping outside, watching as the kids on the field quickly shed their lacrosse gear, the Sheriff felt something in his chest jolt as he heard Derek order, "Isaac, Scott; with me."

Isaac finished pulling his lacrosse pads off his shoulders and abandoned them along with his helmet as he hurried across the yard to Derek's side, Scott only a few steps behind. Both looked grim and tense, all the playfulness and joy he'd seen during the game stripped away.

"Derek," Stiles called, dropping the last of his pads in a scattered mess as he hurried across the yard. "At least take me and Boyd."

"No," Derek said, giving Stiles only a fleeting glance. "We should return shortly. Be prepared." Derek turned and leapt over the fence without waiting for a response, Isaac following without hesitation and Scott only giving Stiles a regretful look before he shifted and vaulted over the fence as well.

Stiles stood stock still, facing the woods for a long moment before he shook his head and turned around to face the rest of the pack. The Sheriff recognized the expression on his son's face as one of tightly controlled frustration and anger, an expression that only a few years ago would have heralded an emotional blowout in a few days time when Stiles couldn't keep the emotions at bay any longer. He realized for the first time that he hadn't seen Stiles have that sort of outburst since before the summer break.

"Gear up," Stiles called as he marched back down the yard. "Two groups, one in the field, one stays here. Boyd and Danny, you're with me. Erica, Jackson, and Lydia, you're staying here with my dad. Boyd, what did we just hear?"

The rest of the pack hurried in from the yard and the Sheriff stepped aside to let them pass unimpeded through the doorway, feeling a chill that wasn't at all related to the mild winter air.

"It wasn't a call from the Alpha. I didn't recognize the wolf making the call, but it doesn't mean it wasn't one of the LA Pack," Boyd said as he set his helmet down on the porch.

"I didn't recognize it either," Erica said from where she was sitting on the arm of the chair she'd previously been curled up in. She had her claws out and was examining them idly. "What's the plan? If they're making a move and we're split up like this, they're just going to kill us one by one."

"The call was a request, it wasn't a battle cry," Boyd said, but the grimace on his face said he knew exactly what the others were thinking. It would be easy enough to call for a meeting and then attack without provocation, but then again, Derek would have to have known that when he went.

"We do what we can. Derek should bring the others back here if he needs backup; we'll feel them coming. Boyd, Danny, and I will provide the first line of defense. I'm not sending you and Jackson out there unless there's no other choice," Stiles said, nodding at Erica's claws. "Erica, stay with my dad, work as a team. Dad, try not to shoot any of us, sometimes the wolves move too quickly to see who you're going to hit, but just do your best."

The Sheriff wanted to protest that he wasn't going to shoot any of the kids, and that his marksmanship was among the best in the Department, but instead he just nodded his agreement. He really wanted to protest the fact that they were preparing for war, but if the fight was coming to them it seemed like they were out of options for the moment.

"Erica, You've been training with Allison, do you want a crossbow or a gun?" Boyd asked as he went with Erica into the house.

"Both, but I'll start with the gun," Erica said as they walked through the kitchen and out of earshot.

Stiles looked at his dad and the Sheriff stared back, the moment passing between them without words. The Sheriff could see that his son was waiting for his condemnation, for him to say that it was just too much, and that Stiles couldn't do this. That he wouldn't let Stiles do this. There was a not insignificant portion of the Sheriff that wanted to say exactly that, and a more than fair portion that wanted to take Stiles as far away from Beacon Hills and from werewolves as possible. But it sounded like werewolves were pretty much anywhere they could go, and the Sheriff knew just as well that he couldn't walk away and leave Isaac alone and homeless. He couldn't leave Erica and Boyd without an adult that would notice where they were from night to night, or leave Lydia, Jackson, and Danny without a guiding figure that was actually aware of the events that had altered their lives. He couldn't leave Derek to be solely responsible for the pack's welfare, not when Derek was only a few years out of his teens as it was, and he couldn't leave Allison alone in the double-life she was so carefully navigating. He couldn't walk away from Scott, who had been like a second son for so long, and he couldn't leave Melissa as the only sane and responsible adult in this whole mess.

"Wolfsbane bullets and my dagger for backup?" the Sheriff asked, meeting Stiles' gaze.

Stiles nodded, relief coloring his expression. "Perfect. Try not to let Erica and Jackson leap into the fray before they're necessary. Erica is still weakened from the attack and Jackson is favoring his left side. The fight shouldn't reach you," he said, though he didn't look as certain as he sounded.

"Good," the Sheriff said. He clapped his hand on Stiles' shoulder and left it there for longer than he might otherwise have. Stiles rested his hand on his dad's arm, letting his fear show through for a brief moment before he regathered himself and broke away to step inside. The Sheriff followed, pulling the back door closed behind him, and he went in his office to get his holster and his dagger. He checked over his weapons, making sure he had two extra clips of wolfsbane bullets waiting to be loaded, and then strapped the dagger at his side. He sincerely hoped he didn't have to use it - he was trained in knife fighting techniques, but it had been a long time since he'd done more than deflect a sharp object while breaking up a bar brawl. At the sound of raised voices he stepped into the hallway and wasn't entirely surprised to find Stiles and Lydia facing off.

"You're not leaving me behind," Lydia was saying, her chin held high and her arms folded. Beneath her open jacket the Sheriff could see a holster strapped to her thigh and there was a quiver of arrows resting at her feet.

Stiles had his own weapons, a short sword in his hands and the lump of a gun holster at his back. "I'm not leaving you behind. You're staying with Jackson in case the fight comes here."

"You're leaving me here because you think I can't fight," Lydia snapped. "Don't think I didn't notice that Derek left both you and Boyd behind. He took the bare minimum of the pack because he wanted to leave the power structure intact so if they get killed out there, we won't fall apart."

"I know," Stiles said, a flash of frustration crossing his features. "But I need you to stay here. You and my dad can cover Erica and Jackson-"

"We both know the only way the fight will reach us here is if everyone else is already dead," Lydia interrupted.

Stiles glanced away and the Sheriff felt like he'd been kicked in the chest when Stiles made no move to assure her that wasn't true. "You are still recovering from a concussion. If you get hit like that again so soon you could have permanent brain damage. Brain damage, Lydia. I'm not going to let that happen."

"You really think I'm going to care about brain damage if the rest of you are dead?" Lydia asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Derek thinks it's okay to run off and get himself killed. It's some stupid self-blame and survivors guilt thing, and don't think for a minute that I haven't talked to him about it. But that doesn't mean you get to follow his example and throw yourself in front of the pack to protect us. Both of you are insane if you think the pack will survive the loss of any of us, and I've done enough worrying and waiting and not knowing what's happening to last for a long time."

"Low blow," Stiles said with a wince. "But you're not coming for the same reason Jackson and Erica aren't coming. Right now you're a liability. I've seen how easily you get tired and I know that you've been getting blinding migraines - which, by the way, is a really stupid thing to try and hide from us. It's not just about keeping you alive. I have to do what has the highest chance of keeping everyone alive."

Lydia stared at Stiles and then looked away. "Fine. But don't think for a minute that we're not going to come running if Jackson or Erica say you're in danger."

Stiles nodded. "Derek might think that we'll turn tail and leave him to die, but I'm not that deluded."

"We've got to do something about that," Lydia muttered.

"I know," Stiles said quietly as he checked over the sword in his hands and slipped the sheath into the specialized belt that rode low on his hips.

The front door opened and the Sheriff had his gun out and aimed before he even processed that he was making the movement. As soon as he saw who it was he pulled his aim away and moved his finger away from the trigger, feeling shaken by the fact that he's just drawn a weapon on a teenager and that he'd done it without hesitation. Lydia and Stiles had both drawn their weapons as well, though they quickly re-holstered their guns as soon as they saw who was in the doorway.

"What happened?" Allison asked as she stepped inside, seeming mostly unfazed by having three guns pointed at her in greeting. She set her bags down by the closet and knelt to pull her bow out of its case. 

"I couldn't be more glad to see you right now," Stiles said, reaching to touch her arm. "Derek went to meet and greet with a pack in the woods."

"With the LA Pack?" Allison asked, her concern and irritation matching Stiles' almost exactly.

"We don't know," Lydia said, passing over a quiver of arrows to Allison.

Stiles shook his head. "You're on the backup team with me, Boyd, and Danny. We're going out as soon as we get a signal that the meeting has moved beyond talking."

"Scott's already out there?" Allison asked, her voice catching on Scott's name.

"Derek took Scott and Isaac with him," Stiles said, studiously looking away from Allison and his dad. "It was the best choice. I would have done the same. Of course, I would have taken myself as well."

Allison nodded, though she didn't look any happier about the situation. "Do we have an approximate location or are we flying blind?"

"I have Isaac's cellphone pulled up on the map," Danny said as he came downstairs, laptop balanced in one hand, a short sword strapped to his back, and a gun holster hanging loose from his belt. "They're three miles into the preserve and they haven't made any significant movements since their arrival."

Lydia reached for the laptop and Danny handed it over and began to adjust the straps of the holster around his thigh. "Take the main road to the preserve, but branch off at Dale Drive so you can cut around the gulf. That will keep you out of the crossfire," she said as she examined the map, a barely noticeable wince crossing her expression as she focused her eyes on the computer screen.

Stiles leaned in and nodded. "Good plan. Around the west side of the ridge for maximum cover?"

"We should go up the north side of the embankment. They won't be able to see us until we open fire, and we'll have the high ground," Allison said as she finished checking her bow.

Boyd and Erica came down the stairs, hand in hand, with Jackson a few steps behind them. "Nothing on the wolf-dar. Either they're actually just talking, or they haven't shown their hand yet," Erica announced as she went directly to Allison and gave her a quick hug. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Me too," Allison said quietly, leaning into the hug and reaching out to brush her hand against Boyd's and then Jackson's.

"Wolf-dar?" the Sheriff asked. It was the first thing that had come into his mind that wasn't an objection to what was happening around him. He didn't want to admit how much the kids were scaring him at the moment.

Stiles' mouth twisted. "Like radar but with werewolves. Believe me, I championed for Wolf Signal, but I was outvoted."

"We'd know if someone was seriously hurt or was in distress," Boyd explained.

"Yeah, at first it was just a generalized feeling of discomfort, but now we can usually figure out who it is," Erica explained. "We'd know right away if Derek was hurt though, the Alpha connection is the strongest."

"Incoming," Boyd said suddenly, his expression distant and focused as he looked towards the back of the house. "No one is injured as far as I can tell, but they're coming in fast."

Stiles looked around. "Change of plans. Everyone circle up in the back. Once Derek, Isaac, and Scott are safely back, anything that comes over the fence is fair game."

The Sheriff followed the kids into the backyard, weighing his gun in his hand as he wondered if he was going to be able to explain away the sounds of gunfire as teenagers setting off early fireworks for the new year. He looked over the backyard and found a space where he could cover Erica and Jackson. The werewolves were spread evenly across the space of the yard, all of them in battle-ready poses with their fangs and claws displayed. There was a faint growling noise coming from Jackson and Boyd had dug his claws into the grass. Boyd was the closest to the fence line, and the Sheriff could see that he meant to throw himself at the first member of the enemy pack that made it into the yard. Allison and Lydia were standing near each other, each holding bows with arrows already nocked. Danny and Stiles both had their handguns aimed at the fence line, their stances certain and well practiced.

Sighting down the barrel of his gun, the Sheriff pushed aside the part of his mind that was trying to process what was happening, and instead he fell into the near-zen state he was familiar with from his work duties. Make it through this moment, keep everyone safe, move onto the next moment; the mantra repeated in his mind and the knowledge that they were expecting Derek and the others kept his finger away from the trigger. They waited in silence, all sharply attuned to the faint noises of the world continuing on around them.

Derek came over the fence first and he didn't seem bothered by the way that no one lowered their aim. Isaac and Scott leapt into the yard a moment later, and the Sheriff let himself take a few seconds to be grateful they were alive and seemingly unharmed.

"We're not being followed," Derek called.

Stiles was the first to lower his weapon, Boyd standing and letting his werewolf features retract a moment later. The others followed their example and when no one was displaying an obvious threat, Derek led Isaac and Scott back into the fold. "What happened?" Stiles asked.

"The actual LA Pack sent envoys with a warning regarding a pack that splintered away from them a few months ago," Derek said, glancing back at the woods.

"The _actual_ LA Pack?" Erica asked. Now that the threat was over she had edged back over to the porch and was sitting on the edge, resting her elbows on her knees. It was clear that she wouldn't have lasted long if the fight they'd been preparing for had happened, and when the Sheriff glanced over the rest of the pack he saw that Jackson looked drawn and unsteady, and Lydia was discretely rubbing her left temple.

"Let's talk about this inside," the Sheriff said, and his suggestion was only partially out of fear that someone might appear and see all of them armed to the teeth. Derek nodded his agreement and everyone trooped back inside and gathered in the kitchen. The kitchen table became crowded with weapons, though the Sheriff noted that Stiles kept his sword in his hands and Allison was cradling her bow. Scott and Allison had pushed their chairs together and their hands were intertwined.

"Well," Stiles prompted when Derek didn't say anything right away.

Derek sighed. "It appears the pack who has been attacking us isn't the LA Pack. A few months ago their Alpha was killed in a power struggle, and one of the betas became their new Alpha. Alpha Annaliese was almost immediately challenged by a group of betas, one of whom believed that she should have been the rightful Alpha."

"The Alpha of the pack that's been attacking us," Danny guessed.

"Exactly," Derek said.

"Though, apparently she didn't become Alpha until after the Alpha of the LA Pack beat them all in a fight and exiled the group from their territory. Ever since then the off-shoot pack has been attacking smaller packs around the state, trying to gain the power and the territory to challenge the LA Pack," Scott chimed in.

Isaac looked unhappy as he leaned in to the table so he could see everyone better. "The people from the LA Pack who spoke to us were worried because if this pack were to actually succeed, they think it's likely they would continue either forcibly absorbing packs or wiping them out until their territory covers most of California."

"They never gave us the option to join them," Jackson said. "Not that we would have, but they never even offered."

"They thought we'd be easy enough to kill off. They'd get another Alpha when they killed me and the Hale territory is expansive enough that it would have given them a solid foothold," Derek said.

"So what do we do?" Boyd asked. "At this point we don't stand a good chance of killing them or of driving them away."

Derek looked grim as he spoke. "The LA Pack wants to stop the off-shoot pack from destabilizing the entire area, but at this point the only way to do that would be to give them their own territory. Alpha Annaliese evidently has a plan, one that her envoys declined to share with us, but they'll contact us again when they're ready. In the meantime, we're on our own."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Allison said, looking up from where she'd been tracing her fingers along the sleek line of her bow. "But that pack isn't our only problem. Last night my entire extended family held council. The matriarch of the Durand clan - which is my mother's maiden name and the clan where she was raised - decided that my father needed reinforcements to regain the Hunter foothold in Beacon Hills. My aunt and uncle, my mother's brother and sister, are to come to Beacon Hills when they are finished with their work in France. They're going to bring their own contingents of Hunters with them."

"They didn't give you any ideas on when that might be?" Derek asked. He sounded and looked remarkably calm but it was the more the way his expression shut down completely that gave away how concerned he was.

Allison shook her head. "Just whenever they're finished _'putting down the mass of beasts that have dared to walk among the communities of man in the once sacred lands of Hunters'_. So, I guess that could take a while. I don't know."

"Alright," Derek said. "We'll deal with the Hunters when they get here. In the meantime we need to figure out how to survive for at least that long."

"What are the chances that this pack was behind the bank robbery, now that we know they're a new pack and would possibly need funds?" the Sheriff asked, turning over the idea in his mind as he searched for solutions that didn't involve convincing the pack to flee the area.

The kids exchanged glances but it was Lydia who spoke. "Possible, but from what we've seen of their pack, I wouldn't count on it. All of their attacks have been direct and overpowering. They don't bother with advanced tactics or stealth - they just count on their brute force to overwhelm any obstacles. That's probably one of the only reasons we've lasted this long. Whoever did the bank job was showing off, and unless someone is hiding their abilities, I don't see that any of them would have the patience or the skills to carry out a stealthy robbery."

"That seems reasonable," the Sheriff conceded. The conversation moved into what they could do in the meantime and whether or not they even wanted to wait for the assistance of the LA Pack. The Sheriff considered the weapons and the frank talk of battle plans, his objections to pretty much everything he'd just seen happen weighing heavily on his tongue. He'd seen the kids hurt before, he'd seen them gear up in case they encountered a fight, and it had bothered him even then. Running his fingertips over the runes on his dagger, his thoughts kept circling back to the way they had been prepared for the possibility that some of them might die; how Derek had left the hierarchy of his pack intact when he took only Isaac and Scott, how Stiles had tried to leave anyone who was already injured out of the fight. What the Sheriff couldn't decide was if he had been left behind to help protect the remaining pack, or if he had been left behind because Stiles considered him a liability in combat. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know the answer.

*****

It was nearing midnight when Melissa arrived and the Sheriff stepped out onto the front porch before she could come inside. The kids had all disappeared upstairs after dinner and the Sheriff had found himself spending the evening in his armchair, exhaustion from the past week finally catching up to him. He hadn't quite been dozing, but he had jolted completely awake when he heard the sound of a car door being shut in his driveway.

"What happened?" Melissa asked as soon as the Sheriff pulled the front door closed.

He really didn't want to tell her that her son could have died today and that he couldn't have done anything to stop it. "They're all okay," he started, finding himself searching for the words that would explain what had happened without expressing his horror.

"Just tell me," she said when he didn't say anything for a moment.

The Sheriff inhaled the cool night air and exhaled the basic facts of what Derek and the others had explained about the relationship between the pack that had been attacking them and the LA Pack. With another breath he told her how the kids had armed themselves and had prepared for the worst case scenario. After a long pause, trying to choose his words carefully, he simply said, "I don't want to lose any of them, but I can't protect them either. I can't keep them safe."

Melissa considered all of this and shook her head. "Could we ever?" she asked, speaking over his immediate objection. "We've done everything we reasonably could to keep them safe, from safety plugs in the wall outlets when they were babies to teaching them how to drive responsibly. But there were things we couldn't protect them from, long before werewolves ever entered the picture. All of these kids have experienced loss and pain in some form or another, and it seems to me like they've learned how to protect themselves. That doesn't mean we stop trying to keep them safe, or stop guiding them, but we can't expect to protect them from life itself. Even as much as we may want to."

"I know," the Sheriff said. There had been a lingering feeling ever since his wife had died that he would never be able to live up to what she would have wanted for Stiles, and that he was failing his son. That feeling had grown worse when he hadn't understood why Stiles was getting into so much trouble in the year before he'd learned about werewolves, and had abated some when he finally understood what had been happening, but had never fully dissipated. He thought about Stiles talking about how much his mom would have liked the pack, and a little bit of that tension eased. The pack felt right in his house, it felt right to have everyone crowded around his kitchen table, and he couldn't separate that from the dangers that seemed to come hand in hand with a werewolf pack.

Even standing outside on the front porch they could hear the sound of the kids racing down the stairs and shouting about it being almost midnight. "We should go inside?" Melissa asked, smiling with her eyes. "I mean, unless you'd rather welcome in the new year out here."

He paused, looking out at the night sky, the moon just barely starting to wane, and the forest that loomed beyond the suburbs. "I'm thinking," he joked when he realized he'd let the moment drag on too long. They went inside and found everyone else already gathered in the living room. The tv was already on Times Square though almost no one was paying attention. There was two minutes left until midnight and the Sheriff stood in the doorway as he looked around at the pack. Scott and Allison were squished into one of the armchairs; Stiles, Isaac, Erica, and Lydia were all on the couch and talking over each other; Boyd was standing behind the couch listening with a thoughtful expression while Jackson was leaning next to Lydia, his hand on her shoulder while he talked to Danny. Derek stood near the window, most of his attention lost to the world outside.

"One minute left," Erica called. She stood up on the couch, twisting around and wrapping her arms around Boyd's shoulders.

The Sheriff watch the pack, Melissa at his side, and despite the dangers waiting for them in the near future he felt almost hopeful. The forewarning of more Hunters coming to Beacon Hills was concerning, the fact that the new Pack was strong, violent, and had an agenda was very troubling, and the unsolved bank robbery weighed on his mind. But even with the threats they were facing, he had seen firsthand how strong the pack was and how their bonds with each other helped them through experiences that would have left many people dead or nonfunctional. They had survived the past year, and the Sheriff thought maybe now that he and Melissa were being allowed to help - even if it was just giving the pack a safe place to be themselves - the new year would be better.

"Here we go," Scott said as the countdown began on the tv screen. Most everyone in the room counted down with the last few numbers and cheered loudly as the ball dropped in Time Square.

Amidst the cheering, the kids bounding around in celebration, Stiles turned back and looked at where his dad and Melissa were standing. "Dad," he said, raising his gaze purposefully, "Mistletoe."

The Sheriff looked up and sure enough the mistletoe was hanging just inside the entryway of the living room, right in between where he and Melissa were standing. When he looked back down he found Melissa watching him, the corner of her mouth quirked up in uncertain amusement. He splayed his hands, silently asking what she wanted to do.

"Rules are rules," Melissa said as she arched her eyebrows, though she was also clearly waiting to see if he had any objections.

"That's true," he said, nodding his assent, and while he wasn't sure which of them leaned in first - maybe it was at the same moment - a few seconds later their lips met in a chaste and careful kiss. It didn't last for long, it hardly could when they were hyperaware of their audience, and the Sheriff found himself smiling uncontrollably when he pulled back.

"Happy New Year," Melissa said, and there was a slight flush to her cheeks as she smiled at him.

"Happy New Year," he repeated, and he was certain that out of the corner of his eye he saw Stiles grinning as he darted across the room to where Scott and Isaac were now gathered.

*****

Epilogue: New Years Day

It was well after nine in the morning when the Sheriff woke the next day, later than he'd slept in years, and while he was strongly considering rolling back over and shutting his eyes, he could smell that someone had made coffee. He weighed getting up and getting coffee with the fact that he would also have to get dressed and be prepared for whatever insanity had invaded his house that day. Coffee won out, but only just barely, and he made an executive decision to shower later when he might actually be awake.

In sweatpants and a t-shirt he shuffled downstairs, only glancing at the mess of boxes in the living room. It seemed that Stiles had already started with decoration removal but had gotten distracted halfway through. The Sheriff continued on into the kitchen, heading past the mess on the counters and straight to the coffee pot without even checking to see who was gathered around the kitchen table. The creamer was still sitting out from whoever had used it last and he sweetened his coffee ever so slightly before bringing it to his mouth and inhaling deeply before taking his first sip. His eyes had fallen closed and he stood still for a moment and ignored the quiet shuffling and murmurs coming from behind him. Three sips later, his hands still firmly around his mug, he felt awake enough to at least glance over to see which members of the pack he had and what they were up to.

Lydia and Danny were sitting at the head of the table, each with their own cups of coffee, and they along with Stiles were gathered around some odd materials that looked like they had once been plants. Isaac and Jackson were at the other end of the table, several diagrams spread out between them as they studied them and occasionally made marks or changes. When the Sheriff wandered a little closer he noticed that the diagrams were of lacrosse plays and they both had plates of seemingly random leftovers from the night before; Isaac had a still cold piece of pizza, with some fried potato chunks and a banana, while Jackson had a piece of lasagna, a slice of apple pie, and a handful of meatballs. The Sheriff checked the time again and decided that it was possible that this was an early lunch for them instead of a late breakfast. On the other hand, he'd never known Stiles or Scott to be picky about matching the food in their meals to the time of the day either.

He moved on to Stiles, Lydia, and Danny, and frowned at the set-up. They had a mortar and pestle, a chopping board, and plenty of jars and little plastic baggies. In between all of them were the plants they were working with, some dried and others fresh and tied in bundles. "Not drugs, right?" he asked, holding his coffee carefully so he wouldn't spill or drop it if the answer turned out to be affirmative.

Lydia looked up from where she'd been grinding down a bowl of dried herbs. "Well, technically if you're looking at it in terms of plant byproduct to be used for a specific purpose that alters bodily functions-"

"Not drugs. We're not buying or dealing or using drugs. They're used for offensive and defensive weapons only, I promise," Stiles said, quickly interrupting Lydia. "We're going over to Scott's later."

The Sheriff nodded; good enough. "Fine. Just finish cleaning up the living room before school starts next week. And no humans are allowed on the roof when you're taking down the lights; that includes the ones on Mrs. McCall's house," he said. He looked down at his mug, decided that everything he'd seen and heard made about as much sense as he could possibly expect, and then refilled his coffee on his way out of the kitchen.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and for all the wonderful comments and kudos you have left! I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I anticipate the third story in this series will start posting sometime in March 2013.
> 
> Happy New Year!


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